Tired of Waiting
by p0ck3tf0x
Summary: Canada is a young nation, forged in quests for glory and wars overseas.  His was a land that could be both cruel and beautiful.  Every country was waiting with baited breath to see who Canada would become but...  Prussia was tired of waiting.
1. Chapter 1

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory._

**Tired of Waiting **

Prussia slumped forward in his chair and kicked his boots on to the conference table. He crossed his arms and growled under his breath in frustration and boredom as the nations around him tittered and argued. He no longer had a voice in the matters of the world, but his brother would be forever adamant that he participate.

It was tedious.

He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he had picked up more than a century beforehand. After two calming breathes and a few mumbled swears, he looked up to see the solution to all of his problems.

It was a flash of blonde curls and bright lavender that caught his attention. The nation tapped his pen against important documents in irregular rhythm with a slight frown on his face. He tucked a wisp of blonde behind his ear and pushed his glasses into place, muttering quietly as he circled a section of print in red ink.

Canada.

Prussia had been watching him for a couple of decades now, from the corner of his eye, waiting for a chance to take him home and take advantage of his nature. Perhaps it was finally time.

He felt the inkling of a long forgotten promise whisper in his ear.

Canada was not as invisible as he supposed himself to be. In fact, it could be hard to look away. His was a country found by the Nordics, settled by the French, claimed by the English, and allied with the Americans. Before that, he had been getting along just fine on his own.

Talk about an identity crisis.

His people had yet to carve a niche for themselves but were well on their way to finding it. Canada was young and undefined, and older nations waited with baited breath to see what he would become.

He was a land older than time; a land of animals unimagined and sights unseen. Canada had been home to people both savage and peaceful for centuries. He was a nation raped for resources and pawed from one country to another in the name of glory. He was a nation of trade and diplomatic negotiations. He was a nation of war. A land of suffering; of cold and windswept shores, of storms and blazing forest fires, of blizzards and nights where the sun never set. A land of beauty; of delicate wild flowers and prairie grasses, of winding rivers and glittering diamonds, of rustling leaves and pebble stone beaches.

He had claimed his independence not through war, but through patience; waiting until he was too expensive to keep collared like a dog before bidding farewell, unlike his brother. He was a country forged in the brutality of war; his people finally uniting during the Great War and World War II to speak with one mind. Mostly… He was truly independent with the creation of his own unique flag, or perhaps later, with the signing of the Canada Act.

But more than anything, Canada was simply beautiful.

In his person, you could see all of the aspects of the nation; the beauty and sense of calm, the intrigue and mystery. The adventure that lay beyond every hill and horizon; the untamed cruelty of his land.

He was a tall man, if only he would stand up straight and stop slinking through the halls. He moved with a grace and stealth unmatched; the soft padding of a hunting animal creeping silently through the trees.

His hair framed his features in soft curls the colour of the prairies at dawn. His eyes, highlighted by honey eyelashes, were a peculiar shade of lavender that could be soft and tranquil; the colour of lilacs blooming in early springtime, or cruel and sharp; the sudden, brilliant hue of the sun setting after a snowstorm.

His smile was small and hidden, as if he knew a secret that you never would. His lips were always a shade too red, too dark, as if he had been out in the blowing wind for too long. His cheeks often flushed with the same effect.

He shifted his hands delicately over objects, as if his fingers were dancing. He would flutter his hands as if afraid to leave them still in any one place; fidgeting and impatient. If he would only hold his hands still for a moment, you could see the worn edges and calluses of someone who knew what it meant to work hard for your living.

If you managed to catch the nation without a sweater or jacket, you could see the muscles poised and straining to spring and give chase. His body was covered in scars; some of which the Europeans could claim, but most of which had occurred in the millennia before colonization. Centuries of history that the other countries could only wonder at and Canada would simply shake his head and smoothly change the subject when asked; with that infuriating little smile gracing his features.

The nations of the world had fallen in love with him at one point or another, as their kind was known to do. A nation is primarily curious; perhaps hateful when their people call for it or simpering when their government begs, but mostly curious of other nations. Whatever speeches or treaties or battles may come to pass, they were well aware that everyone was in this together. They were curious of what other nations had to offer the world, and often, they fell in love with those things.

Love for a nation is not as easily defined as it is for a mortal, and that is saying something. A country is defined by their resources, the public opinion, and secrets in the dark. It was the children playing in the streets, the lovers holding hands, and laughter in the rain. It was the excitement of the holidays, the unbridled joy at the terminal return gate, that feeling of safety whilst being tucked into bed. And it was the last kiss before the kill, those hateful words being strewn throughout the cities, the shell shocked crying of a woman with nothing else to lose. Love for a nation could not be easily defined because they themselves were not easily definable. But they could love, as simple or as complicated as it may be.

Some countries loved his quiet nature; his willingness to sit and listen, and to understand that sometimes nothing needed to be said.

Some countries loved him for the recognition he granted them and the friendship he offered.

Some nations loved him for the safe haven he had provided their people and the shelter he offered the nations themselves in desperate times.

Some countries loved him for letting them tramp through and steal resources. And in the end he would forgive them, more or less.

Some nations loved him for his acts of cruelty; for his reserves and internment camps, for his riots and protesters.

Some countries loved him for his peacekeeping and the ability to take what small forces he had and spread them in the name of a greater good. Other countries loved him for the fact that those peacekeeping forces were not always used for peace. When the Canadians marched, other countries took notice.

Some nations loved his festivals and celebrations of multiculturalism; his acceptance of all people no matter their colour, religion, sex, background, or sexual preferences. Other nations loved him for when this acceptance fell apart and children cried themselves to sleep at night.

Some countries loved him for his resources and treasures; for his education system and the dreams of a new generation; for his future.

But all of the countries loved Matthew Williams for his kindness, his consideration, and his compassion.

He was there to hold England's hand when America left him; he was there to help France bury the dead after the wars. He was there to rock America back and forth when the Twin Towers were hit. He recognized the Baltic States first; he accepted Ukraine's immigrants en masse. He played hockey with Russia during the Cold War and he stood by Cuba when he made a mistake. He kept the royal family of The Netherlands safe and bent the rules for their benefit. He fought side by side with India, Australia, and New Zealand under the worst conditions imaginable. He sent foreign aid to more countries than could be counted.

He was special, and the rest of the world was just waiting to see who he might become.

But Prussia was tired of waiting.

* * *

"Hello, Birdie."

Canada glanced up from the documents drowning in red ink. Another conference had come to a close and, yet again, little had been accomplished. He shoved the papers into his suitcase and stood up.

"Oh, Prussia. How are you?" He was polite to a fault, but Prussia did not mind.

"Gilbert. And all the better now that you're here." Prussia winked; hoping that his intentions were clear in his unmistakable flirting.

"Gilbert… I've been here all afternoon…" Canada glanced left and right as if to make sure of his surroundings.

Apparently, his intentions were not quite as clear as he had thought. Prussia scoffed.

"Yes, yes, but it should be obvious why _I_ am here now. I'm hitting on you," Prussia cocked his head to the side, staring down the blonde and frowning. "You're not going to make this any easier, are you?"

Canada leant his hip against the desk with wanton abandonment and that infuriating little smile.

"No, not at all."

The other nations were whispering and careful to watch this odd conversation unfold. Prussia knew that he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule by approaching Canada with these intentions, but he had waited long enough. He had never been very patient. What were they going to do about it? What could the 'League of Nations' do to someone who was no longer a nation?

Considering the glares, the nations might just ignore the proper channels of peacekeeping and lynch him. Alright then; time to leave.

"Hey, Birdie. Can I talk to you for a second? Preferably somewhere that is _not_ here."

"Sure. Where?" He looked him over with thoughtfulness.

Prussia paused for a moment and leered at the blonde. That was too easy to pass up.

"Would it be too forward of me to suggest a broom closet?"

Canada cocked an eyebrow.

"You might want to take me out to dinner first. I'm kind of old fashioned."

"Damn. It was worth a try," mumbled Prussia as he took Matthew's suitcase for him and escorted him from the conference room. "In that case, may I take you out for dinner?"

Canada stopped short in the corridor. His face was kept carefully blank even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you serious?" He asked with mild contempt lacing his words.

"Ummm… Yes?" Prussia was confused. "You said that I should take you out for dinner; I am offering to take you out for dinner. I could have sworn that was what you wanted… Is that not how courting works in your country? Did I miss a step?"

Prussia scratched the back of his head and hummed softly. Canada stared him down for another moment before shrugging his shoulders and sighing; the frost leaving his eyes.

"No, it is. I had just assumed that you were kidding."

"Ummm… No? Why would I do that?"

Canada laughed delicately as Prussia furrowed his eyebrows.

"Maybe because you're you? I _have_ heard stories, you know. Not always the nicest stories either. In fact, I am not sure that I have ever heard a 'nice' story about you. I mostly hear about drunken nights, conquests, and vicious battles."

"Well, don't believe everything you… Okay, never mind. That's all true."

"And now you want to take me out for dinner?"

"Yes?"

"Why," he laughed, "do you sound so unsure?"

"Maybe because you're a hell of a lot more intimidating than I remembered," Prussia grumbled quietly before speaking up, "and yes, I would like very much to take you out on a date."

"Really?" Canada sounded genuinely surprised. "And here I thought that you just wanted into my pants. I might have slept with you too… But a date sounds like a nice change."

Canada sauntered down the corridor as Prussia stared after him in surprise. Coming to his senses, he sprinted after the nation.

"Seriously? Because you know… There is a broom closet down the next hall and…"

* * *

The tinkling sound of Canada's laughter drifted through the conference room. The nations were quiet for half of a second before America grabbed several sheets of graphing paper and spread them across the table.

"Alright people, we need to plan this shit out! How the hell do we keep his hands off of my brother?"

The rest of the nations shifted forward, whispering fervently.

America raised his hand excitedly in the air and opened his mouth, only to have England hold a finger in front of his face to silence him.

"No, Alfred," he sighed as if this were a common occurrence. "We are not building 'some sort of cock-blocking robot'. Try again."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_So... I have been rewriting the chapters to __**Tired of Waiting**__ in order to continue with the piece. You will find that chapters one through eight have been altered, however slightly. The changes are not too noticeable; I need to update the writing style to match my current one. You do not need to read again from the beginning, but perhaps you will want to. _

_I originally began writing this as an excuse to present a more interesting, multifaceted Canada. It broke my heart to see my country, and a favourite character, written as either a depressed, invisible, weakling or the complete opposite of a psychopath. I am a firm believer that you can be both, and that there should be more to him. I am trying to write balance, but whether or not I succeed will be up to you. I will be trying to balance all of the characters, somewhat, while still keeping most of their defining characteristics. When I write him, Canada may seem as if he is holding his cards close to his chest because I think that he might be..._

_Regions: Canada is a very large country with several different physical regions therein; such as the mountains, the arctic, the prairies, the shield, and the atlantic. Most are mentioned in passing and indirectly when describing Canada in this chapter._

_Great War and World War II: World War I was solely known as the Great War before there was a there was a second global war. The 'Great War' refers to the 'great' scale of the carnage and the 'great' losses. It is generally agreed upon that Canada as a nation was forged in these wars. It was the first real crisis that Canada could unite against (mostly of one mind, there were still some issues with Quebec, but less than usual) and allowed Canada to step onto the world stage. These wars gave Canada a separate national identity, rather than an identity based on our connection to the United Kingdom. It is important to remember that Canada has always been a nation of settlers and immigrants, and that our loyalties could be split between the old world and the new world. _

_Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._

_... I have had that line used on me and it has never worked. Prussia might need to step up his game..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory._

**Tired of Waiting**

Prussia stumbled after the blonde, muttering unintelligibly and using lewd hand gestures to coax him into the broom closet. Canada simply laughed and evaded his advances with practiced ease.

When he tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders and steer him towards the cupboard, Canada somehow twisted out of his grip and danced out of reach. When he tried to place a hand on his hips, Canada was suddenly two steps too far forward; laughing flippantly.

It was infuriating, but Prussia had always enjoyed a challenge.

Prussia tried to press a hand into his back pocket and Canada stepped to the side without so much as glancing behind. He smiled.

"How the hell do you keep doing that?" Prussia finally asked; exasperated and well aware that they had passed the broom closet, and his chance, some time ago.

"Doing what?" Canada cocked his head sweetly to the side and again danced out of reach.

"That!" Prussia pointed to the distance between them. "Sidestepping me! How're you doing that?"

Canada took another step to the right and further away as if to demonstrate.

"And stop acting so cute and innocent!" Prussia cried when Canada fluttered his eyelashes. "I'm on to you!"

"Oh, alright then," Canada sighed, standing a little straighter with a small smile playing across his lips. "You're no fun."

Prussia threw his hands over his head in defeat and spun in a circle.

"I give up! I cannot figure it out; you were supposed to be quiet and easy to manipulate. Who the hell are you?" He moaned; confused and taunted by the coy game Canada was playing. Confused, but also intrigued.

"Well then, that _is_ a rather broad question, isn't it?" Canada mused, tapping his chin and staring at the ceiling in concentration. "I believe that the quote is: "I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think that I must have been changed several times since then', yes?"

"... Oh, of course. It makes so much sense now... Or not at all!"

Canada twirled around with a light laugh and Prussia was again reminded of how beautiful he was.

It took him a moment to realize when they had stopped walking; it was only when Canada reached for the suitcase that Prussia had been carrying for him that he even noticed. They stood in front of a painted green door with the brass numbers '701' mounted to the timber. The '7' was crooked.

"So," Canada said as he unlocked the door with a hotel keycard, "to answer your first question; I get around, despite what everyone seems to think. Plus, you know... France. I've had a lot of practice sidestepping his advances. Second question? I am Canada and please, oh please, do not make me say it again. I get enough of that at home; Kumajirou is sweet, but maybe not the brightest crayon in the box. But if you are taking me out for dinner, I suppose that you can call me 'Matthew' instead."

Prussia stared blankly as the door popped open; he could barely remember what he had asked in the first place. Talking to Canada was similar to riding a roller coaster. Backwards. He could never really be sure where he was in the conversation at any given time.

"There is a little Italian restaurant in the centre of town. Please pick me up here," he tapped the brass numbers, "at 1800 hours tomorrow. After the conference. If you pay for dinner, I'll take you out to a movie afterwards. If you are late, or forget, I might be forced to hurt you. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir," Prussia mumbled automatically because he was still a little confused. He had not known that Canada could be forceful, despite the peppered 'pleases'. It was kind of... Hot.

"Good," Canada said, and he genuinely seemed delighted. He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek before stepping into the room. "I'll see you then. And thank you."

Canada closed the door with a gentle 'click' and left Prussia standing alone in the corridor. He touched his cheek.

It was like riding a roller coaster backwards. In the dark.

He grinned in wild abandonment before pressing his hands into his pockets and whistling down the corridor. He felt as if he had chosen his distraction well.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the conference room, it was absolute chaos. As per usual.

America had drawn several detailed diagrams with robots and aliens battling on high rises and England was burning the diagrams with single minded intent. France had wrapped his arms around England and was blowing out the matches before the fire could catch in an effort to anger him. It was working.

There was a low undercurrent of excitement and vigour running between the nations as they tittered and argued in an attempt to get a word in.

"We should separate them!"

"I do not think that it is proper for Prussia to chase after Canada."

"I agree."

"Damn it, Japan! State your own opinions!"

"I think that we should hang him for treason."

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"In this case? No."

Germany thought briefly about restoring order but quickly abandoned the idea as a wad of flaming paper sailed overhead.

It could wait.

* * *

Canada sank onto the edge of the bed and loosened his tie. It had been long and largely unproductive day. It had been interesting near the end, but long nonetheless.

He began to unbutton his dress shirt before giving up and flopping back onto the pillows. The sheets were lightly starched and as white as the blanket covering them. He allowed his mind to wander and found himself staring out the window feeling wistful. The sun was setting on the horizon.

This would not do.

Canada pushed himself off of the bed and decided to take a shower.

He emerged from the washroom ten minutes later and towelled his hair without care. He fumbled through his luggage for a pair of jeans and a comfortable black cotton shirt with 'In Soviet Russia, Zero Divides by You' scrawled across the front. He had quite the collection of national humour, but this was one of his favourites, and if it managed to irritate Russia then even better. At least it would mean that someone was paying attention to him.

Canada slipped into his boots and stepped into the corridor. He did not make much noise at all as he headed for exit. It was a stroke of luck that this hotel sat nestled on the far corner of the town. It meant he would not have as far of a walk.

It was a little more than half an hour when he found the first sprinkling of trees at the beginning of a forest. A sense of calm washed over him as he shifted between the branches.

It was not well known that he had a mild case of claustrophobia. It was difficult for him to sit in a conference room or in parliament or in an office for any great length of time. Canada spent as little time inside as possible. He kept houses in all of his major cities, of course, but he tried not to be bullied into sleeping there. His current leader was conservative in more ways than one and did not like for Canada to wander too far. Still, whenever he could find a moment he was slinking through the forests or scaling mountaintops or swimming in shallow rivers.

The truth of the matter was that Canada represented a large country that was largely unpopulated. There were only so many Canadians and most of them were spread over the landscape in uneven bursts of population. Most of his country was wild and untamed, and he had been reliant on that nature for centuries before the Europeans arrived on his shore. His native inhabitants had been able to live off of the land and live with the land but the Europeans brought constructs and smoke so harsh as to blind; water so foul that the bottom was hidden beneath a coating of sludge and grease.

It was not that he was ashamed of the Europeans and what the old world offered. He loved the cities, the culture, and the technology that modern culture had brought him, but he still represented the nation as a whole, and sometimes that meant that the cities became stifling. He still needed to roam the woods and splash in the streams. He still needed both sides of the coin; the sophisticated indulgences of the cities coupled with the raw, untamed power of the wilderness.

Canada stalked through the forest, stepping through the underbrush with ease and crouching low when a twig snapped in the distance. When he found a suitable tree, he scrambled up the rough bark and sat on a branch with his legs swinging over the abyss.

He had a lot to think about: federal and provincial laws, elections and the recession, and the fact that Switzerland would soon be baking donuts for Tim Hortons. A Canadian icon owned by an American company and supplied by a Swiss partner. What was the world coming to?

But mostly, he thought about Prussia. He wondered if he remembered.

It seemed like a lifetime since he had spoken to him last but little had changed. He was still as arrogant and loudmouthed as before. He still had odd twitches and tics to match a gruesome history of warfare and constantly shifting borders.

But he was still earnest and he still meant what he said; when he said it. When he smiled, he smiled from the heart and his laugh was contagious. He still fumbled his words and his meanings but he was mischievous and playful too. He told interesting, rambling stories with no beginning or end. He was sweet, in that way where he did not know when he was being sweet.

Most of all, he was an instant cure for the boredom that had been plaguing him for the last decade. He adored the chance to mess around and keep him guessing. He deserved a little fun after waiting for so long.

Canada kicked his feet and leaned back on the branch, smiling to himself.

"What more could I ask for," he sang under his breath, "in a new toy?"

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_The second rewritten chapter. The notes from this point forward will only include anything I deem necessary or interesting, but each one will probably continue to be very long... Oh, well. I often include information pertinent to my stories because I believe that life is about learning, and how can you learn if no one is teaching?_

_Yes, Tim Hortons is owned by an American company and soon to be supplied by a Swiss partner. Yes, it is a terribly stereotypical concern for a Canadian, but honestly, you would be surprised how few seem to know. I do not drink coffee but when I travel, it is a Tim Hortons in the airport that lets me know I am almost home._

_Cookie for the quote! _

_Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criti__cism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	3. Chapter 3

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory._

**Tired of Waiting**

Canada pressed his palms against his eyelids, grumbling, as he sprawled amongst the branches and cursed morning, responsibilities, and propriety in one breath. He had apparently fallen asleep in the tree, but dawn was breaking and he would need to prepare for the meeting in a couple of hours.

Sighing, he dangled his legs over the edge and jumped; crouching low on all fours to absorb the impact when he hit the forest floor.

"Too early..." He moaned quietly.

Leaves fluttered around him as he straightened up and hissed in pain.

"Fuck," he swore, glancing down to see the sharp end of a snapped twig piercing the skin of his middle finger. Crimson blood dripped down his finger, swelling around the twig. He pulled it out and examined the wound; it was somewhat painful but nothing to fret over. It was somewhere between a splinter and a stitch. He slipped the appendage into his mouth.

"An' tha' s' my favourite finga' too," he muttered awkwardly around the throbbing digit. He tilted his head back to glance through the treetops and to get his bearings. The first sprinkling of sunrise had lightened the sky but the Morning Star could still be seen and Canada was able to point himself east.

He wandered in the general direction of the others, sucking on his finger absentmindedly, and drowsily clipped a couple trees on his way. He apologized each time.

"Wa' too early..."

* * *

Prussia reached out from beneath his covers to snatch the alarm clock and dash it against the wall. It clattered loudly and the incessant ringing came to an abrupt end. He had originally set the alarm as a reminder that Canada was waiting for him and that the conference would be decidedly less tedious.

Fuck that. It was too early.

He whimpered as he buried deeper into the blankets.

It was too early, even for a treat such as Canada. He would just have to wait.

* * *

Dawn broke and poured through the windows, casting the room in hues of purple and softening the edges. The effect would have been lovely if the room itself was not in such disarray; charred curtains, toppled chairs, and that one suspicious stain on the carpet that none of the nations would admit to.

"This," Austria sighed as he surveyed the damage in dismay, "is completely and utterly ridiculous."

Hungary crept up behind him and tucked her head against his shoulder, blinking sleepily.

"What did you expect?" She yawned, running her hands over the seams of his jacket.

He clutched his temples to suppress the rising headache and knitted his eyebrows.

"Tact, perhaps? Discretion? I honestly do not know _what _I expected. I should know better by now, truly... Fortunately, I can blame all of this," he swept his hand towards the debacle, "on Gilbert; which is a favourite pastime of mine and serves to dull the pain."

Hungary giggle lightly into his jacket and wrapped her arms around him.

"He is fully aware that it is unacceptable to approach Canada in such a heinous fashion. There have been wars fought for much less than-" Austria was cut off when Hungary twirled him around and dipped him low, her tresses cascading around his face.

"Are you jealous, my love?" She asked affectionately.

He nodded, a slight blush dusting his features but hidden from the rest of the world by her hair.

"You know that I am, my dear. As are you."

Hungary giggled in affirmation and tenderly brushed his hair behind his ear before straightening and pulling Austria with her. She reluctantly released him to smooth the folds and creases in her dress. He straightened his collar with one hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She beamed and twirled in place; her skirts fluttering in a wide circle, before skipping further down the corridor.

"Oh, not to worry. The others will never stand for it and neither will we! Why _else_would we be wandering the halls at this ungodly hour?" She snapped her wrist in a languid, offhand movement without turning around. "Gilbert will never know what hit 'im! I promise."

Austria watched her skip around the corner, giggling, before shifting his eyes back to the dismantled conference room.

Canada held a special place in his heart but he supposed that most of the nations could claim the same. Still, there were far and few between who Austria considered worthwhile, and Canada was one of the few. It was not that Austria wanted all of his attention to himself; he just did not want anyone else to have it all. Least of all Prussia. Each nation held Canada in some esteem, but if Prussia managed to coerce Canada, would the nations be forced to abandon whatever bonds existed between them?

Austria leaned against the doorframe, watching the sky leisurely melt from purple to pink.

Austria was known to appreciate the finer things in life. He appreciated renowned literature and traditional sweets; he adored candlelight and classical music, and everyone knew this. What no one knew was that he also took simple pleasure in blowing bubbles in the garden with Hungary or baking cookies with Northern Italy.

Canada was one of the few that gave him the impression that he was living instead of just breathing. He could appreciate that. He could appreciate when Canada stood next to him on the terrace and sang gentle tunes under his breath. He could appreciate finding Canada fiddling in the park for the children and dancing in step to spirited jigs. He appreciated when Canada would set aside time just to paint with him and regale him aboriginal legends. Indeed, Austria cherished the strange landscapes he painted...

"_Canada, if you do not mind my asking, why did you choose that colour?"_

_Canada hummed __and glanced at the paint dripping from his paintbrush before continuing to flick the bristles over the canvas in diminutive, shallow motions._

"_Why not?"_

"_Well... Surely, the colour of the sky is all wrong?"_

_Canada chuckled, cocking his head and squinting at the canvas, before twisting in his seat to smile at him. It was such a brilliant, wonderful smile that Austria felt his knees go weak even though he was sitting down._

_Canada was breathtaking._

"_Actually, I do not suppose that you have ever visited, but the quality of light in my country is quite different than yours." Canada pressed the paintbrush into his hand and closed his fingers around it. He guided it to the paint pallet and dipped it into the odd shade of green. He gracefully moved their hands together over the canvas and deftly added few quick, precise strokes to the sky. "That is why I can paint using this colour," Canada trailed their hands towards the pallet again and rinsed the paintbrush before dipping it into a peach pastel, "and this colour together."_

_Austria watched, entranced, as their paintbrush mixed the colours. His hand was warm and comforting over his own. _

_This painted sky was the strangest that Austria had ever seen but it was somehow soothing in the way that seeming opposites came together seamlessly._

_There was a gentle knock at the entrance as Hungary slipped into the foyer and sat beside them with a thoughtful sound. She winked at Austria knowingly, and he ducked his head to hide the flush of his cheeks, as she shuffled through the pockets of her pinafore to find a petit point. _

_She was threading her needle when Northern Italy bounded towards them to scrutinize the painting. His face lit up in unrestrained happiness as he watched their hands shift over the canvas. He sat on the floor in front of them and pulled his knees up to his chest._

_The painting was almost finished before Austria realized that Hungary and Northern Italy were singing soft folk melodies, and that at some point, he had joined them._

_Canada cocked his head and squinted his eyes as he looked over the painting, but he was smiling._

In that moment, Austria had been content. Spending time with Canada was one of his simple pleasures and it happened little enough as it was. He had been content in spending time with his friends and watching the painting unfold. It was one of his cherished memories, and one of the few that Canada had been able to give him.

He did not like the thought that with Prussia pursuing Canada those fleeting moments could disappear altogether.

So, he pushed himself off of the doorframe and stepped down the corridor towards the new conference room. He paused one last time to glance out the window where the sky was changing from pink to yellow. It was beautiful, of course, but Austria found himself wishing for the strange colours from the painting that now hung above his fireplace.

* * *

Hungary stopped skipping the moment she turned the corner and instead pressed herself against the wall with a sigh. It was much too close to dawn to be awake, but the collective had agreed to meet on their own time after the conference room was set on fire. This was personal.

She slithered down the wall to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. She rested her head on her crossed arms, promising herself just one minute of silence before joining the other nations in the new conference room.

It took her less than that one minute to fall asleep again.

"_What are you doing?" Hungary asked curiously, watching the blonde tense at the sound of her voice before purposefully relaxing his muscles again.__ She had only seen him a handful of times and they had never had much occasion to speak._

_Canada lowered the bow and arrow; loosening his pull on the string and aiming the arrow safely at the ground. He looked her over carefully and, seeming to place her, grinned widely. While his smile was a touch manic, his eyes were serene and she could identify with that sense of calm that comes from target practice._

_Not that she had the chance much anymore._

"_Practicing my shot," he said, still grinning. "Would you care to join me? There is another bow leaning against the shed behind you."_

_Sure enough, there was. Hungary hurried to the bow and held it up to inspect the craftsmanship. It was a decent bow, and she was pleased to see that the bowstring had been waxed recently._

_She pranced back over to him and snatched an arrow from the bucket; the quiver lay uselessly on the grass. She quickly notched the arrow before tilting her head and raising one eyebrow in a teasing gesture._

_Canada matched her stance and smirked._

"_I take it that I've been challenged?" He chortled._

"_You bet!"_

"_Have you ever...?"_

"_Boy, I was shooting long before you even knew what a bracer was."_

_Canada laughed again and the sound carried easily over the orchard of the latest meeting place._

"_Somehow, I doubt that," he mumbled under his breath as he took aim._

_Hungary tugged on the bowstring and aligned her own target. She began counting, feeling more excited than she had in a long while. It was rare that there was anyone new to 'play' with. Most of the Europeans knew to avoid her when she had a weapon in her hand._

_This would be fun._

"_One... Two... Three!"_

"Hungary? Hungary? Why are you sleeping in the corridor?"

Hungary blearily raised her head to find the nation she had been dreaming about. He was slightly dishevelled and there were leaves wound into his curls but he smiled at her and held out his hand.

"Ah, I guess that was one minute too many... I was dreaming of the first time we met face to face. There was a competition," she yawned and held his outstretched hand. He hissed, barely a sound, and she could see that his finger was coated in dried blood but he hoisted her into the air with such ease that she stumbled into him. Canada set her back on her feet and bent over to dust off her pinafore as if she were a child. If it had been anyone else treating her like that she would have hit them over the head with a cast iron pan, but she knew that Canada would never be untoward or improper. She flushed and busied herself by staring at the dried blood.

"At archery practice, right? He asked as he straightened up. "If I remember correctly... I won due to disqualification."

Hungary was surprised that he remembered at all. She opened her mouth to argue, closed it, and instead reached over to tug the leaves out of his hair; giggling at the face he made when she showed him the little hitchhikers.

"No, no, Canada. I won; fair and square," she started again as she crinkled the leaves in her between her fingers.

"How is it fair and square if you were using me as a moving target?"

"Okay, so perhaps it was not fair and square, but I did win!" She exclaimed as she tossed the leaves through an open window. They watched the leaves spiral and disappear from sight before Canada turned back to face her.

"But you never actually hit me! How does that make you the winner?"

"Maybe because I said so?"

Canada narrowed his eyes and they glared menacingly at each other for a moment; gnashing their teeth and curling their fingers. It was always like this when the two of them had occasion to meet. It lasted only a moment before someone started smiling, breaking the spell, and they both collapsed in laughter. Hungary clutched her sides in mirth and Canada wiped his tears with the back of his hand. It was dawn and the two of them were ridiculous and overtired.

Austria rounded the corner, drawn by the noise, and stared at the pair rocking on the floor; howling.

"What, pray tell, is so amusing?" Austria asked in bemusement, settling his hand on his hip.

Hungary looked up at him, gasping for breath, while Canada curled tighter into a ball, shaking with stifled chuckles. It was one of those moments where the laughter taken over and no one could remember what was so hilarious in the first place. Whatever the original reason, it would pale in comparison to their reaction.

Whenever their gaze met new peals of laughter would tear free.

"I- I- I don't e-even know any-anymore!" She wheezed before toppling over again.

Austria waited with the patience of a saint for the two to calm down and five minutes later, after three false starts, Canada and Hungary were able to stand on their own without stumbling. Their cheeks were pink and glowing. Hungary plucked a camera out from the folds of her skirts and held it at an impossible angle to capture the two of them with their arms around each other.

She checked the viewfinder on the back of the digital camera and must have approved of the picture because she swatted Canada in the direction of his suite.

"- and I want a rematch sometime soon!"

"Any time, any place! Bring it on!" Canada called back before ducking around another corner.

The corridor felt a little emptier without him, but the laughter still echoed in her ears. Hungary threaded her arm through his and beamed up at him. Austria smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled in his affection. She led him down the corridor and towards the new conference room.

After all, this was personal.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_The painting described here i__s an ode to The Group of Seven; a group of Canadian landscape painters circa 1920. If you look up a few of the paintings, you'll see some very distinct and interesting colour combinations. The collection is quite famous and, more importantly, beautiful._

_The Morning Star is also known as the planet Venus, and it appears in the east. It is one of the brightest stars in the sky, which means that it is usually one of the first stars to appear in the evening and the last to disappear at dawn._

_A bracer is a wrist and arm guar__d used in archery to protect sensitive skin from the sting of the bowstring if it is snapped too close. Throughout history, bracers have been ceremonial as well as practical and are often decorated with precious stones, carvings (wooden bracer) or studs (leather bracer). A quiver is a sort of light, thin basket or leather pouch worn by the archer to carry arrows conveniently. It is decidedly less useful if it is resting on the ground instead of on your back/hip as it will topple over (many are soft or have rounded bottoms), so a bucket or stand is easier to use at that point._

_The quote from the last chapter was indeed from 'Alice in Wonderland'. Congratulations if you know your 'classical' literature._

___Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory._

**Tired of Waiting**

"Order! Order in the court!" America screeched, banging the butt of his loaded pistol on the conference table in frustration as the gathered nations continued to ignore him and prattle on.

England reached forward and grabbed the weapon; pulling the clip from the gun in one swift motion and tossing it to Switzerland. He caught the ammunition with a nod of appreciation and settled into his seat.

"You daft sod!" England bellowed, using the now barren pistol to beat America about the head. "Where do you think you are? This is not a bloody courtroom, and god forbid if you were ever a judge. That was a loaded gun! How in all hell did that seem like a good idea?"

"Ouch! England! Arthur, that hurts! Goddamnit, I said that hurts! I have the right to bear arms, y'know!"

France sniffed and tilted his nose into the air with a frown of disgust.

"Why, dare I ask, would anyone wish for 'bear arms'? It seems dreadfully morbid to me."

Belgium hummed in agreement and flicked her pencil across the table towards her brother. The Netherlands batted it out of the air with a contemptuous snort and tossed his erasure back. It missed her and instead smacked Finland square in the face, which caused Sweden to growl and stand up; searching for the culprit. The Netherlands ducked down in his seat and pointed accusingly to the country sitting beside him, which happened to be Spain.

Sweden stepped purposefully towards Spain, only to be knocked over by Southern Italy as he escaped from the grasp of his once keeper. Sweden stalked Spain as he darted after the nation.

Meanwhile, Germany watched the chaos and wondered why he had bothered to organize this meeting. It was not a requirement; it was not compulsory, and yet he had made a special effort to come. Northern Italy babbled cheerfully beside him and Japan sat sensibly on his other side; wincing when America tackled England to the ground and the pistol slid across the floor.

He had bothered because he thought it important to establish a common goal and a sense of camaraderie. He had gone through the trouble in an attempt to unite them. It was just a shame that it had to be against his brother.

It was time to begin.

"Enough!" Germany roared and slammed his hands on the table. The sudden silence was deafening. He cleared his throat in embarrassment at the unexpected attention. That almost never worked...

He gathered himself and gestured to the nations with an outstretched palm.

"Please tell me," he said, quieter than before, "if this is not important. If it is not, then I would prefer to return to my morning regiment. The nations gathered here have decided that this issue is worth our special attention. The issue of my brother, yes?"

The nations nodded in agreement and settled back into their seats, straightening their papers and sitting a little straighter. Sweden glared at Spain as he returned to his seat but Spain failed to notice.

"Then," he continued, "Can we not discuss this issue in a calm and forthright manner? The constant bickering is pointless and... Destructive. Please raise your hand if you wish to speak, and then proceed to speak in a clear, concise fashion. Are we clear?"

The nations nodded again and America hesitantly raised his hand.

"No, not you, America," Germany said sternly, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning.

"Wh-"

"You are the reason for the fire in the conference room yesterday and I am still rather... Cross with you."

"But that was Arth-"

"He was burning your diagrams. Keep quiet. Would anyone else care to speak?"

America pouted and pushed his documents around with the tip of his pencil like a petulant child. Liechtenstein raised her hand first, with a little gentle coaxing from her brother.

"Ummm... I believe that... That we want Mr. Prussia to leave... To leave Mr. Canada alone and stop teasing him. Would it not be sensible to simply request that Mr. Prussia do so?" Switzerland smiled encouragingly at her and patted her on the head.

China creased his brow and raised his own hand.

"That's easier said than done. Prussia has absolutely no reason to listen to us. He is no longer a nation, and thus, no longer answers to any governing power."

Denmark raised his hand, leaning back in his seat and propping his boots on the table.

"Screw that. Why can't we just pound the little rebel into paste? Show 'im what happens when he messes 'round with th' rest of us? Seriously, I have an axe in my suite. It would take me less than five minutes to get it and bam! Problem solved!"

Norway shook his head in exasperation but there was a slight smile gracing his features. Sweden had turned an odd green shade at the mention of Denmark running rampant with an axe and Finland hiccupped on a nervous giggle. Japan raised his hand and spoke.

"Perhaps Prussia-san is unaware that his advances are forbidden? It seems to be an unspoken rule..."

Japan was interrupted by Hungary, France, and Southern Italy calling out in unison.

"Oh, he knows."

Germany massaged his temples.

England glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall before raising his own hand. The nations had wasted too much time this morning. America tried to smack his hand out of the air in an act of defiance, but England merely cuffed him upside the head before speaking.

"We have run short on time, in any case. The actual meeting is about to begin. I believe that it would be best if we gathered intelligence first rather than stumbling forward blind. For all we know, Matthew has already rejected the twat and we have worried over nothing. He always was a smart lad. Unlike someone I could mention... When we have some information, we can compare notes and decide our next course of action. Does everyone agree?"

"I disagree with everything that you just said," France snorted.

"Of course you do. Does everyone else agree?" England glared at France, who shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in a placating gesture; this was an age old game of theirs and neither of them had the bite that they used to.

There was a chorus of agreement, and not a moment too soon, as Canada slinked through the door with the flush of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm late; I went to the conference room from yesterday and found it a little more... Scorched than I remembered," he tapered off when he noticed everyone staring in his general direction. He stepped to the left and then to the right to gauge how the stares followed him with intense concentration.

"Eh?"

Canada glanced at his brother, who was staring just as intently as he sulked and twirled his pencil over his fingers in silence.

"Alfred? Why are you being so quiet? It's... It's kind of eerie..."

America's face lit up in delight and he clapped his hands in realization and excitement.

"That's right! I don't hafta' be quiet anymore! Ha ha!"

Canada found his seat and scooted it a little further from his brother as he sat cackling and rubbing his hands together in dangerous glee. England watched America for one shocked moment before covering his face in disappointment and choking on a sob. He knew, in the end, that he was responsible for the person America had become. France smoothed circles on his back in a rare sign of sympathy.

As simple as that, chaos was restored to the collective and it was business as usual. Objects were tossed about the room as the pitch of noise reached new and interesting levels. Nations left their assigned seating to chase each other around and bicker.

Prussia swaggered in through the entrance not much later with his hands jammed in his pockets and a smirk on his face. His hair was tousled and his clothes were rumpled, but he seemed arrogant and self satisfied nonetheless. The change in the noise level was noticeable as the countries became aware of his arrival and shifted their attention.

Prussia waved at Canada, who saluted haphazardly as the two shared a secret smile, and twisted to find his assigned seat next to Germany and across from Russia. He collapsed into the chair and Russia scowled at him.

It took him a second to realize that everyone was shifting their gaze from him to Canada with a measured and calculating glare. His grin widened as he made the connection. He pulled his hands from his pockets and tossed Russia a wink before raising said hands in the universal sign of claws.

"Rawr," he whispered, posturing. "It's on, bitches."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_America is using his pistol as if it were a gavel in this scene. A gavel is the hammer used in courtrooms to maintain order. It is dangerous to use a pistol as a gavel. Don't do it!_

_As I am sure most of you know, the suffix "san" is a honorific in Japanese that is gender neutral but means much of the same as "Mr." or "Mrs." or "Ms.". It is polite and to forgo this suffix with anyone other than a very good friend would be considered extremely rude._

___Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory. __Underlined__ italics are meant to convey writing._

**Tired of Waiting**

Northern Italy knew that he should be paying attention to Germany lecturing at the front of the conference room, and honestly, he was. More or less. He may have been tuning out the words but he still watched as Germany puffed out his chest and tapped the stack of papers in front of him.

Boring. This meeting was boring.

His brother ignored him and refused to pass notes behind Japan. The seat on his other side was vacant because Germany was currently presenting. Japan was sitting next to him, between the brothers, but he was staring intently at the speaker and actually jotting notes from time to time.

Another glance at Germany confirmed that he was still droning on and on and on. He shifted his attention across the conference table to the nation everyone was gossiping about.

Canada met his gaze steadily and raised one of his hands in greeting before letting it drop again to resume worrying the edge of the scrap in front of him. It degraded into a staring contest that allowed Northern Italy to wonder at the interesting shade of his eyes.

Canada was the first to blink; his honey lashes hiding the lavender from view before opening wide again. He beamed at him and raised his hands again; this time in the sign of defeat. Northern Italy grinned back with a smile just as wide and dusted his shoulders in solemn pageantry. Canada choked on a laugh before ducking his head when Germany clucked his tongue in their direction.

Once Germany had returned to his presentation, Northern Italy scribbled something on his blank sheet of paper and folded it twice before tossing it to the other nation. Canada unfolded it carefully, his fingers dancing along the creases.

He liked Canada's hands. They were beautiful and made for creating masterpieces.

_I'm bored!_ The note was blunt and Canada smiled wryly before adding his own contribution. Instead of just folding the paper along the existing pleats, he smoothed it out and started again. Canada held it up when he was done and it was folded in the shape of an origami throwing star. He tossed it with a flick of the wrist and it sped towards Northern Italy much faster than he had anticipated.

Before it could hit him, Japan reached over and plucked it out of the air in a single smooth movement. He seemed just as shocked as Northern Italy was.

"I must apologize," mumbled Japan in embarrassment. "My hand seems to have moved on its own." Japan passed the origami note to him and bowed his head respectfully. Canada whistled softly in admiration. Japan blushed and righted himself in his seat, scribbling furiously to catch up on what he had missed.

Northern Italy was a little surprised and more than a little impressed but he unwrapped the note as if nothing had out of the ordinary had happened. Japan would only be more embarrassed if he called attention to it.

_Are you less bored now?_

Northern Italy chuckled lightly and scrawled another note. He folded the message the length of the creases and back into origami before flicking it at his partner in crime. His aim was not as accurate but Canada still managed to catch it before it could smack America in the forehead. America was about to ask a question but Canada pressed a finger to his lips and hummed a shushing noise. America nodded at the gesture and gave him a sheepish 'thumbs up' sign. Canada pinched his cheek in affection before reading the note.

_How did you know Kiku would catch it?_

The memorandum was passed back again.

_Well... He either would have caught it or it would have hit you square in the nose. You would no longer be bored in either situation. Nursing a paper cut, perhaps, but not bored. _

Northern Italy tucked the note inside his suit jacket when Germany circled the conference table; distributing important documents as he went. Canada turned his attention back towards the lecture but Northern Italy continued to ignore the presentation in favour of watching Canada flicker his palms over his notes, never quite touching the ink.

There were several reasons for Northern Italy to like Canada, or rather, for Feliciano to like Matthew. One was that Matthew had never treated Feliciano as if he were a simpleton or a coward. He treated him as an equal and with respect. Matthew was willing to join in his games and dalliances without shame.

Most of all, Feliciano adored how Matthew used his hands to create rather than demolish. He used his hands to create when he painted, when he made music, and when he was cooking. Even when he was folding slips of paper into something more meaningful.

_"__Italy? Are you alright?"_

_Northern Italy twisted around and brushed his floured hands on his apron. He knew that the other nation was here to check on him because he had just been scolded harshly and rather publicly in the corridor. He prayed that the tears had dried._

_"__Yes. I'm fine. It was my fault. I was just... I'm just a nuisance, y'know? I always am…" Northern Italy turned back to the flour mixture on the counter in front of him. There were cracked eggs in a well in the centre and the flour kept them from oozing onto the counter. There were other small piles of ingredients laid out: colourful and dramatic against the wooden countertop. He grabbed a fork and whisked the eggs a little more severely than necessary. He then folded the eggs into the rest of the ingredients until combined and smooth._

_While he was distracted with the mixture, Canada stepped over to kitchen sink to wash his hands and toss an apron over his head. He tied a loose bow in the back with deft fingers. He joined Northern Italy at the kitchen island and held out a hand for a ball of the dough. Northern Italy glanced up at him through the fringe of his hair and bashfully passed some of the mixture to the other nation._

_The two of them continued to knead in silence for a couple of minutes until he began to speak._

_"__I don't think you're a nuisance," Canada said quietly as he moved towards the pasta machine and pressed the dough through with a crank of the handle. He fed the mixture through and Northern Italy watched as he flicked the flattened dough out through the other side and laid it upon the counter with delicate precision. He had done this before._

_"__And I don't think that it's your fault. I think that everyone is just a little stressed out and that your friends acted without thinking. I can guarantee that they already regret what they've said."_

_Northern Italy took his turn at the machine and repeated the process while Canada began slicing the flattened dough for ravioli._

_"__But what if they meant it?" He asked as he stretched for the shredded cheese. Canada reached for the pile of spices at the same time and their hands knocked clumsily together. _

_Canada grasped his hand and kissed the back of it with gentle kiss as if he were a gentleman. Perhaps he was._

_"__Then they are fools who cannot appreciate what's in front of them," he shrugged his shoulders and let go of his hand. He reached again for the spices. "But wait and see. In a little while, they will realize what they said and come tripping in here to apologize." _

_The two continued to wrap cheese and spices with squares of pasta in companionable silence. Northern Italy simmered a simple sauce and poured it over the pasta before tucking the whole dish into the oven. _

_He felt much calmer now than when he had stormed into the kitchen._

_It was when he was pulling the finished meal from the oven that his friends stumbled into the kitchen in a panic to apologize. Northern Italy dished out the pasta and passed it around; accepting their apologies with grace and revelling in the attention. _

_He found himself beaming as everyone chattered; eating the meal and humming sounds of pleasure. His smile slipped a little when he saw that Canada had slipped from the kitchen without notice._

_Almost._

_Canada had written in the flour with his finger: '__TOLD YOU SO__' in bold capital letters._

Northern Italy lurched back to the present when Germany smacked his head with the side of his folder. He looked up to find him frowning slightly as he continued to lecture. His lips were moving to form words that Northern Italy continued to ignore. He grinned at him and made a light purring noise. Germany sighed and carried on circling the conference table.

Northern Italy glanced back at Canada in time to watch him fold another piece of paper into the shape of a frog and tap it as if it were hopping. Northern Italy had been unsure before now whether or not to interfere but he decided then and there to join the skirmish in earnest. He thought of Prussia as a brother but it seemed too cruel if he refused to share Canada with the rest of the nations.

He scrawled another question on their sheet and tossed it to Canada, who snatched it out of the air without averting his attention from the origami frog in front of him. He unfolded the message and quirked an eyebrow at Northern Italy before writing an answer and throwing it back.

_Are you going out on a date with Prussia?_

_Yes. Dinner and a movie later tonight. Does this have anything to do with the odd looks I've been getting all morning?_

Northern Italy pitched the note back.

_No. Just curious. What are you talking about? What odd looks?_

When in doubt, it was always best to play dumb. Canada seemed anxious to ask another question but he was unable to when Germany announced a break and the nations began shifting and stretching their legs.

* * *

Germany had just announced a break and Canada reached his hands over his head to stretch. His low groan of pleasure changed into an annoyed gasp when Prussia used the opportunity to poke his side.

"When did you get here?" He growled as he swatted the other man away from his ticklish stomach.

"Ah, but I've been here all morning," Prussia replied with a smirk.

"No, I meant right here, as in 'standing on the same tile'."

Prussia took the hint and stepped back.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk around the building," he said, ignoring the glares of the other nations.

Canada nodded and shifted towards the entrance, expecting Prussia to follow him. The remaining nations watched them leave. Once in the corridor, Canada sidled up beside him and touched his arm to get his attention. His gaze flickered around the corners and from shadow to shadow in suspicion.

"I have the feeling that everyone is watching me," he whispered anxiously.

"That's probably because everyone is," Prussia laughed.

"What? Why?"

"… No reason."

* * *

"Hey! Hey! Germaaany!"

Germany turned back from watching the Canada leave the conference room with his brother and looked down at Northern Italy as he flitted around.

"Yes, Feliciano, what is it?" Germany huffed and patted him awkwardly on the head, as if unsure of how to show affection.

"Germany! Guess what? Guess what?" Northern Italy bounced up and down on his heels before leaning in and whispering: "The fox is in the hen house."

"…What?" Germany blinked.

"The eagle has landed."

Germany continued to blink in confusion so Northern Italy rubbed his arm in soothing circles as if he were a lost cause and translated.

"Your brother asked Canada out to dinner and Canada said 'yes'."

Comprehension dawned on his face with a slight 'oh' sound. Germany glanced fervently around for eavesdroppers but found none.

"Excellent work, Feliciano. Can you keep this just between us for now? We'll decide how to share this information over the break. This could lead to more chaos than usual if everyone starts acting on their own. Just… Keep quiet in the meantime, understood?"

"Yessir," Italy shouted, saluting him with a languid air, and Germany fought the urge to press his palm against his face in frustration.

Quiet… What had he expected?

* * *

Germany dragged Northern Italy behind him and into the corridor in the direction Japan had last been seen.

South Korea crept out from under the conference table and stifled a giggle into his long sleeves. He had heard the whole exchange. He bounded over to China and wrapped his arms around the other man; clutching the front of his shirt. China screeched and twirled in his grip.

"What are you doing? Again!"

Korea was reluctant to release his hold, but he did; pouting and twisting his fingers together.

"Your breasts do belong to me, but this is more important than that. You'll never guess what I just overheard!" South Korea grinned and held himself in grandeur.

"What?"

"You have to guess!" He complained with a whine.

"Im Yong Soo! I do not have time for your games, so please; just tell me what you've heard." China brushed a wayward strand of hair from his face and jostled the other nation in annoyance. South Korea lit up as he remembered the original reason he was so excited.

"I overheard Italy tell Germany that Canada said he was going out on a date with Prussia!" He said the mouthful in one breath as quick as possible. He also managed to shout it as loud as he could.

Silence echoed throughout the conference room as the other countries stopped shuffling documents and chattering to instead gawk at South Korea.

"…What? It's true! I just heard it!"

The surprised silence was broken when Denmark slammed his hands on the tabletop and launched himself out of his seat.

"Hell no!" He shouted as he stomped out of the conference room and stormed down the corridor in rage. The remaining nations snapped out of their reverie as the echo of Denmark's boots faded into the distance.

* * *

Prussia and Canada meandered through the courtyard and the groomed garden. Canada would name flowers and Prussia would pretend to care. When Canada finally caught on that Prussia could not care less about different species of lilies, he stopped in the shade of a large oak tree. He leaned against the rough bark and listened to the wind rustle through the leaves. He closed his eyes with a hum of appreciation.

That was an invitation if Prussia had ever seen one.

Prussia waited for the few minutes that his limited patience would allow before leaning in close and tracing the curve of his cheek with his finger. Canada opened his eyes halfway and considered the nation.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to wake the princess with a kiss, but lo and behold, you're awake!" Prussia smirked and twinkled with mischief as he continued to slide nearer to the blonde.

"I never kiss on the first date."

"Bullshit."

"Maybe, but I will not be kissing you on the first date."

"Well," Prussia laughed, "it's not our first date until 6:00 tonight."

"Then I should not be kissing you at all. It would be indecent," murmured Canada in a hushed tone but he made no effort to push Prussia off of him.

Prussia was pressing forward to close the distance when Canada was tugged from his grasp all of a sudden and a great resounding 'thwack' rang through the air. He glanced up to find the shining metal of a blade wedged in the truck of the tree and not quite two inches over his head. When the axe was wrenched from the trunk, splinters rained down on Prussia. He twisted to see Denmark standing there with Canada tucked behind him and scowled.

Prussia raised his arms towards the clouds in irritation.

"Seriously? Seriously? Not awesome!"

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Origami is the art of folding paper into shapes. It can be quite simple or complicated. The throwing stars or shuriken mentioned here are actually quite easy to make and it was the preferred method of passing notes between my friends and I throughout high school. _

_A pasta machine is fairly simple crank operated machine used to flatten the dough used for making pasta. It often comes with attachments to cut the dough into noodles but in this case, the flattened dough was cut afterward to wrap ravioli._

___Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory. _

**Tired of Waiting**

Canada was torn between laughter and worried fluster over Prussia. He wanted to laugh at the indignant expression plastered across his face but he was worried because Denmark was wielding a rather large axe and standing between them.

"Seriously? Seriously? Not awesome!" Prussia shouted with his arms thrown towards the clouds.

Denmark growled and tugged Canada a little further behind the protection of his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, seriously. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Königreich Preußen, of course," said Prussia in bland monotone as he studied his nails in a demonstration of his distaste.

"Bastard," snarled Denmark as he stepped forward. "You were forcing yourself on 'im, weren't you?"

"Of course not! I was just going to kiss him, that's all. No tongue; Scout's honour." Prussia gave him a salute to flaunt his crossed fingers. Canada snorted under his breath while Denmark growled again.

Denmark swung his axe through the air without warning and Prussia had to crouch to avoid the weapon; just avoiding the sharpened edge. Canada managed to clutch his arm and knock the axe off course. He was lifted off the ground for his trouble and he was almost positive that the wound on his middle finger had been torn open again. Prussia touched the top of his head with a shocked gasp as if to be sure that it was still attached. Denmark glanced down at the smaller nation clinging to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Ummm... Denmark, I think that you might be overreacting a little bit. Just a little," Canada stuttered and pointedly ignored Prussia's outcry of 'a little bit?'.

"Overreacting? I do not understand. Are you telling me that you wanted a kiss from tha' creep?" Canada flushed at the question and averted his eyes.

"That's not the point," Canada mumbled. Denmark frowned as Canada changed the subject. "The point is that you are waving an axe around the garden at a World Conference."

"I am protecting you," Denmark said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"From what?"

"From him!" Denmark pointed his axe at Prussia and Prussia bounced backwards out of reach with a hiss. Canada sighed and held his temples against the onslaught of a headache; dealing with Denmark had always been an exercise in patience. He meant well, most of the time, but had trouble seeing points of view beside his own. He was stubborn and direct, which was both a strength and a weakness depending on the situation. He could be quite charming and an excellent companion but he was brash and violent when upset. He was a wonderful friend to have and an awful enemy to make.

"... Alright, so you were protecting me. Why?"

"Well," Denmark stammered; flustered. "You see... There's this thing, and..."

Prussia smirked and crossed his arms over his chest with satisfaction.

"Go on, tell him, Denmark. Tell him all about your little... Whoa!" Prussia was interrupted when Denmark twirled towards him again with a bellow and raised the axe over his head. Prussia stumbled backwards but Norway appeared out of nowhere before Canada could step between the two nations. He stepped in front of Denmark without flinching and stared up at him Denmark without blinking. His expression was blank. Denmark stared back at him and some sort of silent understanding passed between them.

After a moment, Denmark let the axe tumble to the ground and managed a sheepish grin for Norway. He leaned on the smaller nation with all of his weight and began to chuckle. Canada locked sights with Norway but he just shrugged his shoulders without changing his strange, detached expression.

"This must be what going mad feels like," Denmark chortled as he straightened. He ruffled his with affection but Norway slapped his hand. He turned to Prussia with narrowed eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you've always been nuts," Prussia snorted.

"Shut up," Denmark growled and tapped his axe with the edge of his boot to prove a point. "Unless?"

"No, no, no! That's fine! We're fine!" Prussia started waving his hands in frantic motions.

Denmark grunted and ignored Prussia in favour of the blonde nation. Canada was still tucked behind him. He bent down on one knee and clasped his shoulders with a slight shake.

"If he touches you again I will hack his motherfucking balls off. Alright?"

Canada felt the corners of his mouth twitch and had to stifle the smile out of respect for his honest offer of camaraderie. He could see Prussia blanche from behind Denmark and had to work even harder to quash the smile.

"Alright, and thank you, I think..."

Denmark grinned and went to lean on the other nation but Norway swatted at him and stepped forward to grasp his hand. Canada was surprised as he massaged his fingers until he found the one that had indeed started bleeding again. Norway had noticed. He slipped a sticking plaster from his pocket and wrapped it around his finger. Canada supposed that it would be essential to bring a first aid kit along if you spent most of your time with Denmark.

Norway held his hand for another moment longer and stared intently at him before letting go. Canada could not help but feel that Norway had just told him something very important, but he did not know what it was.

He gave him a bashful smile of appreciation before he turned back to Prussia and began walking towards the exit.

"'Alright'? What the hell does 'alright' mean?" Prussia was still focused on the threat to his genitalia.

"It means that you should watch yourself. And don't worry, you big baby," Canada reached between his legs and grabbed the front of Prussia's jeans in a suggestive manner. "They're still there. For now."

Canada kept walking as Prussia spluttered behind him.

Realizing that he did not want to be left alone in the garden with Denmark, he rushed to catch up and nudged Canada when he did. He muttered something under his breath and Canada laughed with a shake of his head and rested his bandaged hand on his shoulder in apology.

* * *

"I knew there was a reason we liked him," Denmark said to Norway, throwing an arm around him and cackling; he enjoyed a good threat as much as anyone. Perhaps Canada did not need his protection as much as he had thought when it was clear that Prussia was hopelessly wrapped around his little finger. Prussia just did not know it yet. Norway snorted lightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Me too," Denmark answered.

The two nations watched as Canada left the garden with Prussia; the latter blustering through the courtyard while Canada took quiet, measured steps. He would have moved completely silently if he was not ribbing Prussia and laughing breathlessly.

His blonde curls fluttered in the wind and he tucked one behind his ear in habit. He was smiling and animated and the corners of his eyes crinkled in pleasure.

It was part of his charm that he had no idea how striking he could be.

Watching his feet shift gracefully over the grass, Denmark was reminded of the first time he had laid eyes on the mysterious man.

_It was late fall when he stepped off the boat and onto shore; immediately setting off towards the trees with his axe resting on his shoulder and leaving the others to bring the packs. Denmark could feel the settlement like a pulsing beacon in this strange land. As he stepped one foot in front of the other towards his people, Denmark could also feel the eyes of another following him. _

_He shifted under his furs and shivered slightly. The frost was setting in. They would probably have to stay in Vinland for the winter months. _

_Denmark stopped short, hearing a twig snap in the forest and a light curse in a foreign language. Sighing, he thrust his axe in the general direction of the noise._

_"__Alright! Out with you! I haven't got all day!"_

_He waited while a figure stepped out from behind a tree and into the light. It was a young boy of about eight years with skin as pale as the frost on the trees. His striking eyes were narrowed in apprehension. He had a mane of tangled blond hair; bird feathers and beads braided throughout. He wore some furs, but not nearly as many as he should be, and his bare feet looked as if they had cracked in the cold. Denmark watched as the boy flexed his toes and buried them in the dirt. In his hand he held a strange wooden weapon above his shoulder. It was a long, smoothed branch with a peg carved at the end furthest from the wrist; holding the feathered end of what looked to be a thin wooden spear of five feet. His fingers were slipped through a loop at the front of the weapon and loosely held the sharpened edge of the spear in place._

_Denmark motioned the boy forward and saw him raise the contraption before taking two cautious steps forward, hovering each foot over the ground before gently setting it down and shifting the weight evenly. Denmark was impressed that the stranger was able to do this without making any noise and could understand the curse from earlier; it had been a stupid mistake. _

_"__Look, kid," Denmark said, resting his axe on the soil. "What the hell do you think you're going to do with that kindling? See this?" He kicked the blade of his axe flippantly. "This is iron. I'll fucking cut you in half if you try anything."_

_The child's eyes suddenly widened._

_"__Yeah, that's what I thought. Idiot. I ought to–"_

_Denmark never got to say what he ought to do; at that moment the youth took three running steps towards him and flung the spear using the carved handle with a flick of his wrist, following the movement through with his whole body. The spear whipped past him at an impossible speed and lodged itself wetly in something behind the Viking. Denmark turned to see the twitching form of what looked like a cross between a small bear and a weasel. It was at least seventy pounds and heavily built with wicked looking claws and pointed teeth. The spear was lodged in the flesh of the creature, coming out clean on the other side._

_"__A Gulon? Here?"_

_Denmark looked away from the dying animal to the boy stalking towards him, already notching another spear into place._

_"__You are… Welcome," the boy said haltingly in Norse. Denmark was surprised to say the least._

_"__How the hell do you speak my language?"_

_The stranger moved around him, still eyeing him warily, to the creature. He yanked the spear out of the animal before pulling out a bone knife and slitting the animal's throat; muttering something in another language as he did so. Once the animal was bleeding out, he turned back to Denmark and jabbed his weapon towards him accusingly._

_"__You are… Lucky… That I was here. Fool," he scoffed. "For language, men talk by fire. I listen. Easy."_

_Denmark nodded; it made sense that he might pick up a thing or two if the boy had been creeping around the settlement._

_"__What's that?" Denmark pointed at the weapon resting on his forearm._

_"__Atlatl," the boy said simply, shrugging._

_"__It works well."_

_"__Should. Lot's of…Practice."_

_The child looked back at the creature, and pleased to see it had passed, bent over and wound the legs together with some dried sinew pulled from the folds of his furs. He then hefted the carcass over his shoulder even though he could not weigh much more._

_"__Look, kid," Denmark started, before being brusquely interrupted._

_"__I am no… Child. With my people, I am man. A… Warrior. I demand your… Respect, or next time I hit you instead."_

_The boy, no, man began walking back through the trees; the matted body of the bloodied animal on one shoulder and the wooden weapon held at the ready above the other. _

_"__What's your name?" Denmark called after him. The boy twisted to look at him through the frosted leaves and creased his eyebrows in a look of concentration. In the silence, Denmark could only wonder if there was a translation from his native tongue to Norse. Sure enough, it seemed that there was not._

_"__You call me… Vinland. To you, this is my name."_

_Vinland turned back and continued stepping through the forest; his feet sliding through the air and resting quietly on the earth. Soon, he was out of sight._

_"__A warrior, indeed!" Denmark cackled with his head thrown back, before slapping his axe back over his shoulder and heading again for the beacon that was his people._

Denmark was brought back to the present by Norway tugging lightly on his sleeve for his attention. He grinned down at the smaller nation and Norway rolled his eyes before leading Denmark towards the building as if he were a lost child.

Canada may not need his protection but that did not mean he would not have it.

"Do ya' think rigging Prussia's room to blow would count as cheating?" Denmark asked curiously. Norway 'tsked' and shook his head.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Too bad."

* * *

England and France hovered at the perimeter of the courtyard, out of view behind a weeping willow. England was biting the edges of his nails absentmindedly and furrowing his brow in thought. France was watching Denmark swagger from the courtyard with Norway at his side and unmistakably leering at the sight. England stopped chewing on his fingernails to say something, only to see that France's interest was elsewhere. He slapped France upside his head with a sigh.

"Oi! Pay attention to me, not their backsides."

"Well, if you would take a step to the left, I could do both."

England wondered yet again why he always seemed to gravitate towards this perverted imbecile. France exhaled and turned towards England, tearing his eyes away from Denmark and Norway.

"But if you insist," France complained.

"I do. It is obvious that South Korea was correct in his information. Did you see the way that insufferable man had his hands all over our Matthew?"

"… Have you noticed that you refer to him as 'ours'?"

His eyes widened and England pressed both of his hands over his mouth in horror. France chuckled at his reaction and England flushed bright red before pointing an accusing finger at France.

"If you tell anyone about this–"

"Yes, yes. No one need ever know that you consider sweet Matthieu to be our love child."

"Francis!"

* * *

America had been watching the same exchange from the opposite side of the garden, tucked beneath a rose bush. He had needed to come after South Korea had shouted an unbelievable, implausible statement across the conference room earlier.

The most shocking part was that it was apparently true.

Pressed against the earth, he waited for Denmark and Norway to leave before pushing himself up and creeping along the shrubs towards the exit. This new situation was a lot to absorb and he was on an apparent time limit. He had some planning to do if he wanted to keep his brother all to himself.

"To the Batcave!"

America sped across the courtyard with his arms held aloft like an airplane's wings; humming engine noises and the Batman theme tune under his breath as he went.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **_

_The true spirit of the Viking Age was daring courage; honour and glory were above all else. Seeing Canada as a warrior would have endeared him to Denmark instantly. _

_Vinland is considered to be the area first visited and briefly settled by the Norse in the 'new world' or what is now Newfoundland, Canada. The remnants of the settlements date back to approximately 1000 AD and it is thought that there may be other such settlements not yet found. Thus, the Norse (the Danish, the Norwegian, and the Swedish) are the first *known* Europeans to travel to North America._

_The animal Canada killed is a wolverine. Wolverines are the largest member of the weasel family and are often noted for their temperament and sharp claws and teeth. Although more likely to keep to themselves, they are vicious if threatened by an invasion of their territory or backed into a corner. A Gulon is a Scandinavian legend/monster, which is thought to be an early account of a wolverine. A Gulon was described as a symbol for gluttony and not considered to be a very nice creature. _

_An atlatl is an ancient weapon that preceded the bow and arrow. Different versions of the same weapon were actually used the world over at one point or another. It can hurl a spear of between four to nine feet up to an amazing 100 mph. At the time the Denmark is visiting 'Vinland', about 1000 AD, the atlatl was already slowly being replaced by the bow and arrow in the area. Atlatl are still used recreationally today._

___Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	7. Chapter 7

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory. _

**Tired of Waiting**

America ran through the corridors at top speed with his arms in the air, muttering engine noises absentmindedly as he processed what he had seen in the courtyard. He always thought more clearly when he was moving, and this was important, so he needed to move fast.

He turned another corner sharply and his feet slid across the glossed tiles.

Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.

Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.

Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.

No matter how he said it; it sounded wrong. The thought of it turned his stomach and tied it into tight knots. Worst of all, it seemed like Canada had been interested. Before, it had just been a game to keep Prussia away from his brother and a mild concern. Now, it was very, very serious.

What was he going to do?

He slid around another corner and slammed his hand into the wall by accident. It stung, but not enough to distract him.

Prussia could not have his brother, and that was it. Simple as that.

America and Canada had always been together, back as far as either of them could remember. America liked to think that the two of them had been one, a long time ago. When they were together, he felt whole. When they were apart, he felt like a piece of his soul was missing, and they were apart more often than he would like to admit. He cherished every single moment and memory with his brother, and there had been a lot of them through the centuries.

_America watched as the door opened and closed, flipping a coin absentmindedly and smiling at the barkeep. Every couple that came through the doors was dressed in their finest, with pocket watch chains for the men and pearls for the women. The groups of young men that stumbled in the door laughed raucously as they scanned the room for dance partners and a good time. Small gatherings of women tittered amongst themselves and peeked shyly at the boys through heavily made up eyes. The band was playing a lively ragtime beat and the 'canary' was singing vivaciously on stage as she hiked her skirt up even higher. America took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled lightly, watching the smoke spiral up towards the ceiling to join the low hanging cloud._

_It was the roaring twenties and everyone worth their salt smoked._

_The barkeep finally wandered over to where America sat and snatched the coin out of the air._

_"Whatcha want, Mac?" He asked gruffly as he pocketed the coin and stared down at him. America grinned at the man._

_"Two hooch, whatever you've got."_

_"Not sure I should be giving you two of anything, fly boy. Heard__ you slugged O'Mallory last night."_

_"Ah, you're just a wet blanket. He deserved it. I'm on the up and up today. Meetin' someone."_

_"Got yourself a flapper, did you, Jones?"_

_"Don't let 'im hear you call him a doll. He might take it real personal like."_

_The barkeep barked a sharp sound of laughter and returned to the bar to fill two short glasses from an unmarked barrel. The prohibition was in full swing but that did not stop Americans from flocking to underground establishments like this speakeasy. Instead of reducing alcohol consumption, the law had spiked unprecedented interest in hard liquor._

_At last, Canada slouched through the ever-revolving doors and spotted America through the haze. The barkeep came up and slid the drinks over the table as America waved Canada over._

_"Quite the sheik, ain't he?" Observed the man. Indeed, as Canada stepped through the room, the low rumbling of voices hushed and eyes followed his every move. This was not uncommon when humans met a nation; there was something otherworldly to them, but that was not the only reason. Canada cut a striking figure in his pinstriped trousers and vest, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up against the sweltering heat. His shoes were highly polished and the light flashed off the silver of his clasps and buckles. Canada's hair was slicked back, as was the style of the times, and it suited him well. His blazer was nowhere to be seen as he walked up with his hands jammed in his pockets._

_"Ain't he just? Now beat it," replied America as he tossed the barkeep another coin, stubbed the cigarette butt on the underside of the table, and stood up to shake hands with his brother. Canada grasped__ his hand firmly before sitting across from him and smiling._

_"Lucky for you I even found this juice joint,__ Alfred," Canada laughed._

_"That's the whole point, yeah?"_

_"Ab-so-lute-ly. What's this?" Canada asked and pointed to the glass of mysterious brown alcohol in front of him. _

_"No clue. Drink up!" The two men clinked their glasses together in a toast and downed the liquor; it burnt all the way down, as the good stuff should. The barkeep returned with another two glasses and left without saying anything, though he watched Canada curiously from the corner of his eye. The nations raised their drinks again and repeated the process._

_It was a monthly tradition for the two to meet like this, always in a new town on either side of the border. It was never about politics, or trade routes; just boys being boys and an excuse to spend time with his brother._

_Three hours later and more alcohol than could be considered healthy, the men were hanging off of each other and cackling loudly. The barkeep came up to them and had to tap rather harshly on America's shoulder to get his attention._

_"__Come on, Jones. You and your friend have got to go. Scram," he said as he lead the two men to the back door and out into the back lane. "You be careful, now. You two are fried to the hat."_

_"__Horsefeathers," said Canada at the same time that America exclaimed, "says you," and suddenly they were laughing again as they stumbled down the alley with their arms thrown over each other. Shadows flickered past them as their footsteps fell heavily on the wet cobblestones. Their shouts and hoots bounced off the buildings and into the night._

_Suddenly the two drunks were cut off by a mob of seven or more men; it was hard to tell in the dim light. America an__d Canada came to a swaying halt; America holding his hand up in welcome while Canada narrowed his eyes in suspicion._

_"__Heya!" Said America cheerfully. The men remained quiet, aside from a slight shifting of weight, and Canada leaned over to whisper in his ear._

_"__Al, I think we've got ourselves a couple of goons." _

_America's smile widened._

_"__What's tha'? You lookin' for a fight? C'mon, you daisies!" He yelled and brought his fists up. Canada ran his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration before matching his brother's stance._

_"__Sir," said one of the men at the end of the alleyway, "they're either ossified or just plain goofy."_

_"__And?" Replied another. "Their lettuce will spend just the same. Get 'em!"_

_As the men surged forward, it was an easy thing to toss them over their shoulders or swipe their legs out from under them. The nations had the advantage of being only two side by side in the narrow passage whereas the others moved in one crowd. It would have been simple to end the fight quickly; both America and Canada were very strong by human standards, but America looked over to see his brother laughing as he tripped one of the mobsters and danced out of the way. He dodged another one and turned to look at America with flushed cheeks and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes brought on by the alcohol; tilting his head in a wink. America nodded and flipped a man over into the trashcans; it was agreed, they were going to drag the fight out for fun. _

_Half an hour later, the two nations collapsed to the cobblestones, sniggering. The ground was littered with bodies and stained with blood. Canada had taken a moment to check that everyone was still breathing before joining America._

_"__They'll live. Might not be happy about it, but they'll live."_

_America slumped against Canada and rested his head in his lap. He held his arm straight up towards the night sky and pretended to catch the moon in his outstretched hand. His knuckles were bloody; with whose blood he did not know. Canada combed his fingers through America's hair and America felt contentment wash over him. _

_"__Same time next month?" America asked and Canada hummed under his breath. He was always worried about making enemies._

_"__Same time, different town, please."_

_America chuckled lightly and licked the blood off the back of his hand; tasting the copper mix with the alcohol still on his breath._

_"__Deal."_

_After all, boys will be boys._

How was America supposed to let Prussia tear that bond apart? That feeling of contentment he felt just by being with his brother? The two of them were closer than any other countries he knew; tied together by the red strings of fate and clutching desperately to each other as time marched forward. Canada meant so many different things to America, and sometimes nothing at all, but he was always there for him.

Canada was a part of himself that he would never willingly give away. So, he was going to have to fight for him. And he was going to need help.

America nodded his head; decided, and turned yet another corner.

* * *

Russia had been meandering through the corridors with his hands clasped behind his back when America swung around the corner at breakneck speed. His arms were held aloft at ninety-degree angles and he was purring engine noises, obviously pretending to be an airplane as he ran down the hall. His bright blue eyes were squinted behind his glasses in deep concentration and it took him a second longer to see Russia than it should have. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he began shouting, "pull up, pull up" and "mayday, mayday, mayday" at the top of his lungs.

America screeched to a halt, just inches away from his chest, and glared up at the taller nation.

"Dude!"

Russia merely cocked his head to the side in curiosity and stared back at the other nation. America was apt to forget that Russia did not like him much.

"I _said_ 'why were you just standing there'? I could have hit you!"

"But America, that is not what you said at all…" Russia felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"That's what I meant, duh," he flicked his wrist as if it no longer mattered. "But seriously, why the heck were you just standing there?"

"I heard that there was _such_ a commotion in the courtyard. I am just on my way to see," said Russia cheerfully, followed by a darker whisper unheard by the other nation. "Only to have this fool come out of nowhere and…"

America nodded his head in overstated understanding and stroked his chin thoughtfully; wrapping a friendly arm around Russia and guiding him back down the hall, away from the courtyard. Russia cringed at the familiarity.

"Ah, you've just missed it! It was all very dramatic!" America thrust his finger into the air and enlightened Russia as to the confrontation in the garden between Denmark and Prussia. He began shouting, waving his hands, and adding sound effects with thespian panache as he did so. Whenever Russia attempted to add a word edgewise America would just speak louder and over him. Instead, he listened carefully to the tale and was able to separate fact from fiction whilst dodging America's swinging arms.

It seemed that Prussia was indeed pursuing the affections of Canada… How blatant and tackless and so much like Prussia. This would not do.

America suddenly tugged Russia into an empty room with more force than necessary and pushed him against the wall with a desperate hushing sound. He put one hand over Russia's mouth to guarantee his silence and the fingers of his other hand curled into the fabric of his scarf. Russia frowned and distastefully pried the fingers from his beloved scarf but left the hand over his mouth. He knew well enough that if America did not want to be moved then no force in the universe would be able to move him. Strength and stubbornness were a potent mixture.

His attention was elsewhere and soon Russia could also hear the chattering voices of two nations wandering the corridors.

"I can't believe that you did that! He was threatening me! You threw me to the wolves! Not cool!"

"You need protecting now, do you? Prussia, he wasn't serious!"

"Are you kidding? Denmark is always serious when it comes maiming! It's what he does!"

"Just like someone else I know."

"That's not fair, Birdie. I haven't maimed anyone in ages!"

The voices drifted into the distance and America relaxed enough for Russia to be able to peel the other hand away from his mouth.

"You will let go now, da?" Russia asked when he was able to breathe again. America started as if he had forgotten their compromising position, which was possible, and leapt away from the other man with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry about that, man. I just didn't want Matthew to see me, you know?"

"Yes, I gathered that when you slammed me against the wall."

"Yeah… Sorry?"

"It is alright. One day the tables will be turned and it is you who will be up against the wall."

America blanched as Russia cackled unnervingly under his breath.

"Ummm… You know, I really, really have somewhere else to be. Far, far away from here. Right now," said America hastily as he backed out of the room. "See you at the meeting, 'kay?"

America darted down the now vacant corridor, glancing behind several times to see Russia waving cheerfully from the doorframe of the abandoned room. After America had tripped around the corner, Russia allowed himself a secret smile that would have had Latvia shaking in his boots.

No, this would not do at all!

* * *

Latvia sneezed and rubbed the end of his nose against his sleeve. Sealand hissed and held one of his fingers against his lips, whispering for him to keep quiet. Latvia shrugged his shoulders to apologize as he was dragged through the corridors by the overconfident principality in search of the nations causing a fuss. Sealand thought that if he could capture them he would be recognized as a nation.

He was going to need a stiff drink after this.

Sealand came to an abrupt stop and bounced on the spot from one foot to the other in excitement as he pointed further down the corridor and giggled. Latvia followed his line of sight and found Prussia leaning against Canada with an exhausted sigh. Sealand heaved Latvia back around the corner to avoid interrupting.

The two of them peeked at the other nations.

"See, now I'm all tense," Prussia complained as he tapped at his shoulders to release the tension.

"Yeah?" Canada laughed and tried to shrug him off.

"Yeah. Threats have that affect on me. I think that you should kiss it better."

"Still? You're still going on about Denmark?"

"I am nothing if not persistent."

"I'm starting to see that," Canada laughed again, "but if you recall, a kiss is what got you into this whole mess in the first place."

"True. And I think I should _actually_ get a kiss for my troubles. I was interrupted." Prussia was pouting as if he were a small child denied a treat.

Canada shifted underneath the weight of Prussia leaning on him to twist and place a lingering kiss on his cheek. Prussia stared at him in shock for a moment before Canada seemed to realize what he had done and his cheeks bloomed in a brilliant blush. He covered his burning cheeks with his hands.

Prussia chuckled and ruffled his blonde tresses in affection.

"Cute. That's not what I meant, of course, but it was very, very cute nonetheless."

Canada hurried down the corridor in shame and Prussia darted after him with a laugh. Neither of them caught sight of Latvia or Sealand. The smaller nations let out a sigh of relief and slumped against each other. Sealand was quiet for less than a minute before he jumped up and bounded in circles.

"Did you see that? Did you see that? They were kissing! Kissing!" Sealand shouted energetically as he twirled. Latvia could not prevent a soft smile at his antics and thought that perhaps it was time for England to explain the facts of life to the micronation.

Then again…

Perhaps Sweden should do it instead?

Certainly not…

No, it should be Finland. Without question. If anyone should explain 'the birds and the bees' to Sealand then Finland would be the least likely to scar the child.

Sealand pulled him to his feet and babbled as he led him back towards the conference room.

Maybe two or three stiff drinks were in order?

* * *

South Korea pulled Hong Kong along behind him as he stalked China through the hotel, nattering and claiming that each object passed was the product of his country. Hong Kong did not seem to mind but China was stiffening with suppressed rage and annoyance.

"Im Yong Soo!" China finally snapped and twisted around in a flare of crimson cloth. South Korea was grinning and shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Yes?" He asked with an innocent tilt of the head and China was tempted to throttle him. Instead, he sighed and waved it off. There was no point in being upset with him. It never seemed to make a difference.

"Never min..." China was interrupted when South Korea tackled him to the floor without warning and hauled him into a spare room to their right.

He was too old for this...

Hong Kong followed them without a word and did not even blink at the half dressed couple their entrance had interrupted. It seemed as if no situation could surprise him.

The man paused with his hands pressed against her ample breasts and the woman began to shout in alarm. South Korea whisked his fingers over his lips as if pulling a zipper shut before miming slitting their throats as a threat. He offered China no such luxuries as he carelessly slapped both his hands over his mouth from behind and blocked his nose in the process.

China was still spluttering and plucking at the fingers when Canada and Prussia passed their hiding spot. Canada was nudging Prussia and Prussia was walking much too close to be considered platonic. Canada was flushing as Prussia attempted to pat his backside before his hand was batted but he was laughing.

The nations disappeared in the space of a second, but it was more than enough time for China to see the obvious flirting.

It hurt more than it should have and he cursed his foolish heart. It seemed that age had not brought him wisdom and instead made him more vulnerable than ever.

The hands covering his mouth loosened and China was able to twist to see South Korea in a rare moment of solemn thought. He was slumped forward and seemed a little shocked at his own reaction. His jealous aggravation was palatable as well as another nameless emotion.

He was a hopeless cause.

China sidled up beside him and smoothed circles on his back. He watched as Hong Kong shuffled about and collected the strewn pieces of clothing the couple had discarded before the nations stumbled in. It was curious to watch Hong Kong fold the clothing into neat piles and press them into the hands of the confused couple and usher them into the corridor. He slammed the door without explanation and returned to where China and South Korea were curled around each other.

He held his hand and rested his head on South Korea in a comforting gesture. His expression never changed.

China left South Korea to sort through his emotions for a couple of minutes before jostling him with a gentle smile.

"So... What are we to do about it?"

South Korea gave him a blank stare and China jostled him again. Comprehension dawned on him and a manic smile burst forth.

"Retribution was made in Korea."

* * *

Prussia would have to be blind to have not noticed the nations following them; creeping through the corridors and hiding in abandoned rooms. He would have to be blind, deaf, and an idiot. He could see them dart around corners and hear them shuffling and hear them shushing each other. Subtleness was not their strong point.

He should be furious at their meddling, but it was odd that he could care less. Let them come. He was much more interested in the blonde and the strange inkling of a promise long forgotten. If only he could remember... Prussia had only planned to take advantage of his nature but now he found himself actually looking forward to the date. He had been curious but now he was genuinely interested.

Canada was keeping step beside him and animate as he rambled. His cheeks were stained with a blush and his curls were still tousled from their encounter earlier. He was a vision.

If only he could remember...

No matter. If the other nations were so set on separating them Prussia was all the more obstinate. His brother had been telling him for centuries that he was impossible and stubborn. It would be an asset.

The more time he spent with Canada, the more time he wanted with him. He had been watching Canada from afar for much too long and he was now positive that this chance was worth fighting for.

Canada waggled his fingers in front of his face and he realized that his mind had been wandering.

"Are you alright?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Well... You never answered the question. And you seemed distracted."

Which question? Prussia slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead in mortification. He had not been listening to a word Canada said while he was lost in his own thoughts.

"Ah, I was thinking." He was apologetic but Canada dismissed the issue with a flick of his wrist.

"That's shocking," he teased. "What were you thinking about?"

Prussia grinned and it was three parts mischievous to two parts roguish.

"You."

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **_

_A speakeasy was an underground establishment that served illegal alcohol during the prohibition in the 1920's. It was often hidden in a secret room behind a legitimate business or on the outskirts of town, and may have required a secret knock or password to gain access. _

_The term 'mayday' is an internationally recognized distress signal that comes from the French 'venez __m'aider__', meaning 'come help me'. Interesting note: it is always said three times in a row to keep it from being confused with anything else over the static of a radio. _

_"Up against the wall" can mean that defeat or failure is imminent or it can refer to death by firing squad... Among other things... In short, it means that you're screwed. _

_Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory. _

**Tired of Waiting**

"Ah, I was thinking."

"That's shocking," he teased. "What were you thinking about?"

Prussia grinned and it was three parts mischievous to two parts roguish.

"You."

"Me?" Canada pointed to himself.

"You. Naked on a silver platter."

"Naked?"

"Of course."

"Well then..." Canada seemed both shocked and flattered.

"I mean... Don't misunderstand. I'm a pervert but I like you just as much with your clothes on. Maybe even more!"

Canada tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze. Prussia realized that he might be putting his foot into his mouth.

"Ummm... What I mean is..." He stumbled over the words to explain what he had in fact been thinking about and not a lie. He was too used to puffing himself up but it seemed as if an honest answer might get him further with Canada. "You're cute and sweet and still manage to have one hell of a mean streak that no one else seems to notice. And you're kind. And you put up with me, which, let's face it, is rare."

Canada continued to watch him with an even and thoughtful stare as he rambled.

"Which is to say, you're incredibly patient. And you smell nice! Not that that has much to do with anything…"

Prussia wanted to cover his mouth and impede the stream of nonsense that seemed to dash from his mind to his mouth without notice. The embarrassment was unbearable.

"But what I mean," Prussia wished that honesty was not so difficult, "is that I like you, a lot, and that I have for a couple of decades."

Oh.

Oh, that just sort of slipped out. He wondered if he meant it. He _had_ been watching Canada for a couple of decades... Perhaps it had not with the best of intentions, but he had been watching him.

Canada bent his neck so that the fringe of his hair covered his face but not before Prussia could see the sheepish grin and flushed cheeks. Prussia bent at the waist and glanced up in an attempt to better see him. The blush had reached the tips of his ears and he was biting on his bottom lip with absentminded bashfulness. Canada held one hand against the heat of cheeks and used the other hand to push Prussia away.

"Hey, Birdie?"

Canada continued to stare at the floor in such a pointed fashion as to ignore Prussia. When Prussia tried to step closer he turned the other direction.

"… Embarrassing," Canada mumbled.

"What? I didn't quite catch that."

"You're embarrassing me!" Canada crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

Canada had somehow managed to swing from aggressive to teasing to embarrassed and back again. Prussia was beginning to believe that there was someone else in the world as unhinged as he was.

And that suited him just fine.

Canada tucked a loose strand of blonde behind his ear and continued to stare at the granite tiles in defiance.

* * *

Canada pushed Prussia towards the conference room with a promise to follow in a moment and disappeared into the washroom. There were seven minutes left of their respite and Canada needed the time to himself.

He leaned against the counter and studied his reflection in the mirror hanging there. His cheeks were flushed several shades darker than their usual pink hue.

He grimaced and splashed cold water on his face from the sink.

It was useless to hope that Prussia might remember his promise after one hundred and forty five years.

But he could not help but to hope.

Whether or not he remembered was another issue altogether. Despite the fact that nations could not easily separate minutes from weeks, he could still tell that this was happening too quickly.

He had planned on teasing him a bit after keeping him waiting for so long. He was supposed to be a new toy and a cure for his mild boredom. Instead he found himself desperately entangled with the other nation in the matter of a couple hours. He had spent more time with Prussia this morning than he had had occasion to the last five years combined and he was infatuated with the banter and the flirting and the laughter.

It had been a rather long time since anyone had paid him notice and he was revelling in the attention.

Canada sighed and threaded his fingers through his unmanageable tresses in an effort to tame them. His reflection seemed to be a little too truthful. He seemed sad and a little lonely.

Was it worth it to hope and chance the inevitable broken heart?

"Gah!"

Canada slapped himself on each cheek to suppress the depressing and pessimistic thoughts running rampant through his mind. The effort only served to dye his cheeks another shade darker.

It was no use to agonize over what was, what is, and what might be. Life was a dance and even if you did not know all of the steps, it was possible to make them up as you went. So he would make it up as he went and hope for the best.

Because he sure as hell had no idea what he was doing.

Canada tore his gaze from his reflection to the windowpane set high in the brick wall. He could see the leaves flutter in the wind. It was obvious that he had spent too long indoors, despite the disastrous visit to the garden, if he had been reduced to giving himself motivational speeches in the washroom. He must have cabin fever.

Or perhaps he was lovesick. He wondered which was worse.

One of the washroom stalls opened with the creaking whimper of hinges in need of oil.

He had forgotten to check if he was alone.

The Netherlands met his gaze and held it for a second longer than was comfortable. Canada swallowed and it sounded too loud to his ears. He was somewhat intimidated by the intense stare.

The Netherlands blinked once, twice, and seemed to snap out of it. He muttered under his breath and stepped towards the sink to wash his hands.

Maybe he was high?

He watched Canada in the mirror as he busied himself with the soap and Canada could see that his eyes were clear of bloodshot, though that did not necessarily mean anything with him. He could be popping pills in broad daylight and no one would ever notice.

No, this was different. This was not the result of tablets or grass.

He switched off the running water after a lifetime and twisted towards Canada.

"Prussia tried to kiss you," he said as he leant his hip against the counter. It was not a question.

Canada felt his breath hitch.

"How did you find out?"

The Netherlands shrugged his shoulders without answering him. He instead sauntered forward and pressed one of his still wet fingers against his lips with an odd, detached fascination. He followed the contours of his lips and Canada shivered at the contact.

"Lars?"

His fingers were cold.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm jealous and drowning in memories," he laughed. Canada quirked an eyebrow and frowned, but otherwise remained still within his grasp. The two of them had been through hell and back together, but that had never meant that Canada had any idea what was going through his mind.

It was all quite strange.

This morning had involved more contact with the other countries than he was used to. He was usually the one who would reach out for their attention or watch them from a distance. No one had ever been cruel to him but it felt as if the nations treated him with a tactic sort of estrangement most of the time.

This morning it felt as if the nations followed his every move. It was slightly unnerving.

The Netherlands looked as if he would add some sort of explanation but he was interrupted when France slammed the door open with thespian flare and flounced into the washroom. His steps faltered upon seeing The Netherlands with his finger still pressed against his lips.

France seemed torn between disapproval and longing.

He must have decided on disapproval because he clucked his tongue and waggled his own finger.

"Now, now, Lars. You should know better."

The Netherlands grumbled but obligingly took three steps backwards. The two nations stared each other down while Canada looked on in confusion. It seemed that their conversation needed no words.

Strange.

The Netherlands scowled and France offered him a strained little smile. The Netherlands grumbled again before turning on his heel and storming out of the washroom. He paused at the entrance to smile at Canada and reassure him. The smile was brilliant and Canada found himself lost in memories of his own.

And then he was gone.

And Canada was left alone in the washroom with France.

He might make it out alive if he left now.

"Aha. Ha. Ha... 'ello?" Canada was still confused from earlier and it seemed that his survival instincts were a bit sluggish. France hummed and draped himself over Canada.

"Bonjour," he purred and Canada could feel the headache building. If dealing with Denmark was an exercise in patience, then dealing with France was grounds for sainthood.

"What was that about?"

France hummed again and twirled his fingers through Canada's tresses.

"Francis…"

"Oh, fine," France pouted and tugged on a strand a little harder than needed. "You're no fun. It was just a friendly disagreement; nothing more. You can think of it as foreplay."

"I'd really rather not."

"Suit yourself."

Canada twisted to glare at France but he ignored the glare and instead kissed his cheek with a wink. Canada wrote him off as a lost cause and ducked his head in defeat. France took this as permission to continue twirling his hair around his fingers. The two of them remained in that position in what could be considered companionable silence for less than a minute before France predictably broke it.

"Matthieu, I heard the most outlandish rumour that you and dearest Gilbert were... How do you say... Kissing."

Canada started in surprise.

"Alright, what the... That just happened! And there was no... How would...?"

"Ah, a little bird told me."

Canada rolled his eyes in exasperation and sudden understanding.

"You mean that you were peeking."

"… Perhaps."

Canada sighed as France slipped his hands from his hair and trailed them further down his chest. His fingers caressed each button of his shirt and came to a fascinated halt at the zipper of his pants.

"What are you doing?"

"You can think of it as foreplay."

"I'd really rather not. Why were you following us?"

"I simply could not help myself! You know me, I am…"

"… A gossiping whore?" Canada interrupted.

"Curious," France stated firmly, frowning and continuing to fiddle with his zipper. "How poorly you think of me!"

"I wonder why," Canada laughed as he batted at France and his wandering hands. "Seriously, though, why the sudden interest?"

"Sudden? Oh, my sweet! Wherever did you get that idea?"

"Eh?"

"Yes, yes, I know. You are hopeless in matters of the heart. Not so much as Arthur or Alfred, but hopeless nonetheless."

Canada leaned back into France and pressed their bodies together.

"Oh, really? That's not the way I remember it," Canada hummed.

France swallowed and stepped back.

"Do not tempt me, you foolish child."

Canada smiled and felt as if he had won some small and insignificant battle.

"Then stop spying on me."

"I simply cannot help it," sighed France as if explaining the obvious to a misbehaving adolescent. He gestured with his hands. "It is impossible not to watch your hips when you sway. When will you learn?"

"When you start making sense, maybe?"

France strode forward again and ran his finger over the shell of his ear.

"Ah," whispered France, "this is only the beginning. Gilbert does not yet realize that he is running with scissors. Someone will challenge him and the resulting mess will be... Horrid."

"Challenge him for what?" Canada wanted to run from the washroom and out of his grasp. France was more intense than usual and it made him uncomfortable and nervous. More so than it should.

France remained quiet and ran his finger down his spine.

"Challenge him for what?" Canada repeated and France chuckled low in his throat.

"Yes, someone will challenge him for the greatest prize... Of... All..." France purred as he trailed his fingers lower and on to his backside. He pinched with cruel intentions.

Canada felt his heart come to a shuddering halt before picking up double time. He did the one thing his instincts had been begging him to do since France had first sauntered into the washroom.

He bolted.

* * *

The Netherlands leaned against washroom entrance and slid down to the tiles. He rested against his knees that were drawn up against his chest and cradled his forehead with his hands.

Shit. How come he could never forget?

He tried to protect himself from kaleidoscope of emotions coursing through him but it was no use. His hands were still wet.

He paused a moment before raising fingers to his own lips and pressing them together. His hands were shaking. He could remember the feeling of his lips both from a couple minutes ago and from a couple of decades ago and the edges of the memories were blurring together.

_Canada dragged himself over the broken glass and rubble; his uniform discoloured and filthy. He was coughing harshly and soot streaked his pale skin. He flung himself to the ground at the sound of gunfire and not a second too soon as bullets lodged themselves in ruins of the city, kicking up dust._

_By the time Canada had crossed the street The Netherlands had finished rolling his paper and lit the end with a match. He kept his face carefully blank, as if anything could set him off without a moment's notice. He took a slow drag as the other nation sidled up beside him and sank to the ground, unfastening the straps on his helmet. Canada kicked one leg out and kept the other bent at the knee, reaching his hand towards The Netherlands. _

_He snapped the fingers of his upraised hand impatiently and motioned for the joint. The Netherlands passed it over without a word and Canada took a drag, held it, before blowing the smoke severely through his lips._

"_What a fucking mess," Canada growled, passing the joint back._

"_You're telling me," The __Netherlands laughed hollowly. He watched the end of the joint burn and listened to the pattering drum of gunfire in the distance. "How's Juliana?"_

"_Your princess? She's doing just fine," Canada replied quietly. "They're beautiful, you know. Your citizens are so beautiful. You should be proud." _

_Canada stole the joint again and took another drag._

"_I know." The __Netherlands sighed, running his hands over the fallen column to his left and fingering the bullet holes. Beautiful, resilient, and optimistic in the face of adversity. _

_Canada watched him from the corner of his eye and snuffed the burnt paper into the dirt._

"_You're beautiful too, you know."_

_The Netherlands choked on a sound halfway between a sob and a howl. It all sounded so wrong._

"_I don't feel beautiful right now. Look at my people, my cities, and my country in ruin! My flag is burning. How could I possibly be beautiful?"_

_He leaned his head back and gazed at the clouds trailing lazily through the blue sky. Grit and ashes rained down from the top of the buildings and he tried to convince himself that it was only the cinders that were causing his eyes to water. _

_He was pulled from his reverie when Canada grabbed him roughly by the front of his coat and pressed their lips together. The Netherlands kissed back desperately and threaded his fingers through the other man's hair, knocking his helmet clean off. Canada tasted like sweat, blood, and grime. There was nothing beautiful about that kiss; it was sloppy and frantic with too much teeth, but when they separated, Canada was the most wonderful creature Netherlands had ever seen._

"_See," Canada said, tapping his fingers to The Netherlands swollen lips to prove his point, "beautiful."_

_He choked on another sob at the cruelty of the situation. He should be the one telling Canada that he was beautiful; he should be showering him with kindness in repayment for his sacrifices. For everything that Canada had done for him and his people since this war had stripped his country bare. Instead, here they were, covered in dirt and smeared in the blood of their comrades. _

_Canada smiled sadly, as if reading his mind, and picked up his helmet; fastening it securely. He then rifled through his pockets and pulled out a tube of ladies lipstick. He had probably found it abandoned in the city streets, and sure enough, The Netherlands could see a small doll, a letter, and a locket glittering in the pocket; all souvenirs of war. Canada bent over The Netherlands to reach the pockmarked column he had been distracted with earlier and steadily connected some of the wounds into the shape of the heart. The red of the lipstick stood starkly against the contrasting ash of the city around it. _

_Canada put the lipstick back in his pocket with the rest of his keepsakes and stared intently at The Netherlands._

"_Beautiful." He said again, leaving no room for argument. And as The Netherlands gazed at the pillar with the red heart connecting the bullet holes, he could almost believe it, in spite of everything._

_Canada held out his hand to __Netherlands and motioned towards the end of the street, where the sound of shooting was getting closer._

"_C'mon, we've got a war to win."_

_So __The Netherlands grasped his hand and placed his trust in this saviour. He only looked back once at the red heart contrasting against the white stone, to burn the image in his mind, before turning to follow. _

The door slammed open and he was abruptly pulled back to the present when it sent him sprawling across the floor. Canada tripped over him and fell in a blur of colours and curse words. He landed on top of him and managed to drive his elbow into his stomach.

Canada untangled himself to see who he had landed on before collapsing back on to him with a snort that degraded into hiccupping laughter. He rested his forehead against his chest and continued to snigger into the folds of his shirt. It was that nervous, anxious laughter that came when you could either laugh or weep at your own misfortune.

The Netherlands took a moment to consider that Canada may, in fact, be high.

Canada whimpered and dried the tears from his fit on his shirt but The Netherlands did not mind much. When Canada did push off from his chest he ended up positioning himself so that he was straddling him.

He did not seem to realize how compromising the situation was.

"Lars, you would not believe the morning I'm having!"

"I think that I can take a wild guess."

Canada bent forward to touch their foreheads together. He allowed himself a moment of quiet before pushing off of him and standing up.

Canada glanced back at the washroom with a worried chuckle.

"I'll see you soon, alright?"

The Netherlands could only hope so.

Canada bounded down the corridor and almost knocked England over in his rush. Canada muttered a disjointed string of apologies as he skidded around the corner. England stopped to watch him go before shrugging his shoulders and continuing towards the washroom.

He paused to stare at The Netherlands still sprawled across the tiles and cocked an eyebrow.

"You look like I feel;" England said as he stepped over the other nation without helping him up, "confused."

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

_The liberation of The Netherlands occurred in the last months of WWII and was largely organized by the Canadians. My great grandfather was one of the many soldiers to assist during this operation._

_Princess Juliana was spirited to Canada at the beginning of the war with her eldest daughter. It was the safest and furthest place that the United Kingdom could think to send her when The Netherlands was annexed. She raised her daughter(s) here and treated herself as any other citizen. When her next daughter, Margriet, was born in Canada, her hospital room was declared to be extraterritorial so that the princess would still be eligible for the throne. It was the only time in Canadian history that another nation's flag was flown from the Peace Tower. The royal family safely returned to The Netherlands after the war and since then, like clockwork, has sent Canada 20 000 tulip bulbs every year in appreciation. 10 000 bulbs from the royal family and 10 000 bulbs from the horticultural society. 100 000 tulips bulbs were sent the first year. The Tulip Festival was created in Ottawa in order to display these generous gifts and the blooming flowers can be found on Parliament Hill, in the parks, and scattered around the city. I attended when I was a bit younger and it was very beautiful.  
_

_The soldier with a pocket full of mementos is a common occurrence. It is well documented that soldiers will collect trinkets from those met on the campaign and the remains of trinkets when arriving too late. Most of the mementos would seem useless to anyone beside the soldier who collected them._


	9. Chapter 9

_Well... Hmmm... I doubt that anyone expected this piece to be updated but I've always enjoyed a good surprise, so viola; chapter nine. _

_I have rewritten and reworked the previous chapters in order to move forward with this piece and updated the writing style for that purpose. While most of the core content remains the same, I have tweaked and added where necessary. You might fancy rereading it from the beginning but it would not be imperative that you do so. Then again... It's been awhile. You might not even remember the previous chapters anymore... Aha. Ha. Ha. Gomen nasai? Honto ni gomen nasai._

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory. _

**Tired of Waiting**

Canada stormed from the washroom in a flutter of anxious disgruntlement and France watched him leave. He seemed to stumble but the door had slammed back into place before France could see what had caused him to falter.

France was left standing alone beneath a flickering light with the realization that time flies much too fast.

He pressed his hands into his pockets and tilted his chin upwards in dramatic pose. He let his eyes slide closed.

He had been walking the earth for so long but it had made him foolish instead of wise. Would he ever learn?

He pulled his wallet from his pocket and opened it. The wallet was made of stitched leather without the worn borders of use but when he peeked inside he found a worried and tattered bit of parchment. He felt the beginnings of a sad smile.

No, he would never learn.

The washroom door creaked open with a whine and England stepped in with a concerned frown. His depression disappeared at the sight and he tucked his wallet back into his pocket.

"Ah, dearest! You've missed the illustrious presence of our love child!"

England started and his frown deepened when he saw who was in the washroom.

"Oh. Fantastic. It's you..." He paused. "What the hell are you doing here?"

France rested one of his hands on his hip and gestured with his other.

"It is a public washroom, yes? Besides, where else do you expect me to proposition men for sex?"

England spluttered and coughed.

"Excuse me? Not here!"

"Hmmm..." France hummed in disappointment. England pinched the bridge of his nose and began counting backwards from ten.

"This is ridiculous... Why would you..." He tapered off into a whisper and his eyes narrowed with sudden understanding. "Were you propositioning Matthew for sex? Is that why he was so upset?"

"I tried," France said honestly and England flushed to the tips of his ears. "But he is much too prudish. That's your fault, you know. Not mine."

"Yes, remind me to apologise for that, will you?" He sneered and the sarcasm dripped off of each word.

France was still deciding between a cutting retort or dramatic flirting when the door slammed open again and America came bounding in. He smashed into England and both of them went sprawling.

France cackled at his misfortune.

"I have a plan!" America shouted and thrust his index finger into the air. He made no move to get off of England.

"Why," England growled and his voice was muffled in the leather of the bomber jacket, "do your plans always seem to involve my getting hurt?"

America clucked his tongue as if the answer were obvious.

"That's because you're always in my way."

* * *

Prussia slouched forward in his seat with a frown. Russia was standing in the corner with his sisters and well out of earshot but he kept pausing to smile at him. It was unnerving.

Denmark was sitting three seats to his left, although it was not his assigned seat, and glaring at him. His axe was resting on the arm of the chair. It was less unnerving and more threatening.

The strangest and most unnerving was the fact that South Korea was sitting in front of him and staring.

No, he was not sitting in the chair across the table and staring at him.

He was sitting on top of the table in front of him with his legs crossed and staring at him from a distance of seventeen inches.

Prussia threaded his fingers through his hair and grumbled under his breath. He had known that the nations could be intense, of course, but this was a little much.

Canada had disappeared into the washroom a couple of minutes ago with a promise to return but Prussia was worried that he might have ruined his chances. He had sputtered nonsense and managed to seal the deal with a shocking statement.

And he did not even know if it was true or not. It had just sort of slipped out.

"Gah!" He ruffled his hair and seemed to surprise South Korea with his outburst.

It was too late. He had said it and there was no taking it back.

_I like you._

He would just have to wait and see how Canada reacted to the confession. If he was not lynched in the mean time.

There was a harsh tapping of fingers against his shoulder and he twisted around in his seat to find Austria and Hungary standing behind him. Austria was frowning but Hungary offered him a small wave in greeting.

"Gilbert."

"Roderich."

"Elizabeta!" Hungary was not to be left out and added her own name to the terse acknowledgement. It broke the tension and Prussia smiled at her in appreciation. His morning had been strange enough without adding old blood to the mixture.

"What can I do for you, Roderich?" Prussia sighed as politely as possible.

"I am here to inquire as to your intentions."

"Well, in two hours or so, I intend to eat lunch. Then I intend to steal everyone's left shoe."

"You know that is not what I meant."

"You've always told me that I don't know much of anything."

Hungary giggled and covered her mouth with her hands to smother the laughter. Austria tilted his head toward her in exasperation before turning back to Prussia.

"I refer to, of course, your intentions towards Canada."

"Oh, those intentions." Prussia glanced between the two of them. "I'm not sure yet."

Austria clenched his hands as if to keep them from strangling Prussia.

"Perhaps," Austria was strained, "it would be wise to forgo these attentions. You know as well as we do that it is crass and insensitive."

Prussia folded his arms behind his head and hummed.

"I don't know much of anything," he repeated.

Austria turned on his heel with a sneer and marched to the other side of the conference room. Hungary did not immediately follow him and instead took the seat next to Prussia.

She glared at South Korea and he scrambled off of the table without further prompting.

"Gilbert..."

"Yes?"

"We're just worried, that's all."

"You might be but Roderich's not. He's currently running through one hundred and three ways to murder me using only a paperclip, a stick of gum, and an elastic band, and don't you pretend that he's not."

She grinned and he felt himself relax despite the situation. She had always had that affect on him.

"Maybe he is. But that's not the point."

"It is if he succeeds..."

"The point is that you've been chasing after Canada."

"Look, I know that... That there is a bit of an 'embargo on Canadian merchandise' but..."

She giggled at his choice of words.

"There is, and you _should_ know better. Oh, Gilbert. You're running with scissors and there's no stopping now. Someone is going to get hurt."

"I know that too... But I'm not sure I want to stop. I... I think that I like him..." He whispered the last part.

"Well, of course you do!" She laughed. "You and everyone else."

"I think that I like him a lot."

Her laughter came to an abrupt halt as she picked up on the subtle, childish choice of words and appraised him with new interest.

"'A lot'?"

"A lot," Prussia moaned and tangled his fingers into his hair again. It was just as embarrassing to enlighten his closest friend as it had been when he let it slip in front of Canada.

"Oh..." She was silent for a moment. "That might change things."

"How?"

"Well, now you have something to lose."

"Great, that's inspiring."

"No, but it's true. I had thought that you were looking for a one night stand." She lapsed into silence again before breaking it with a whisper. "You know, I like Canada too... But not 'a lot'. Not like that."

Prussia nodded.

"I want to spend time with him, Gilbert. I want to spend what little time we're allowed. And I'm not sure that I can with you in the picture. And that scares me."

He nodded again and let her continue without interruption. The truth of it was that neither of them were very good at expressing themselves with words, and that they never had been, which was one of the reasons he was in this mess. She seemed fragile in her openness so he listened without judgement.

"Canada made me a better person, whether he knows it or not. Perhaps he did not make me a better nation but he certainly made me a better person. He made Roderich a better person. I like him."

Hungary reached forward to clasp his hand.

"So I'm not going to let you have him without a fight." She was blunt without being cruel. "He owes me a rematch."

Prussia squeezed her hand and smiled to let her know that it was all right. She returned the gesture before standing up in a flare of emerald cloth and leaving.

She had not quite taken ten steps towards Austria when she paused and turned around as if she had forgotten an important point. Her pinafore spread out around her as she twirled and ran back to him.

He was about to ask her when she pulled a cast iron pan from the folds of her skirts and bashed him over the head with it.

"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

"I promised Roderich this morning."

* * *

Russia had kept to the corner with his sisters when he returned but he made sure to watch Prussia as he chattered with the brunette. He narrowed his gaze when Prussia clasped her hand with a smile.

Betrayal.

He reached over to the nation sitting close to them and snatched his pencil. He snapped it in half and handed it back. Lithuania looked as if he wanted to speak up but decided against it.

Ukraine tugged on the end of his scarf with gentle hands. He turned back to her and she smoothed the knitted threads through her fingers with a soft smile. He felt calm wash over him and patted her on the head.

It was odd that his older sister was now shorter than him.

Belarus stepped closer to him and pressed herself against him. It was her attempt at comfort but not quite as effective. The thought was still there though.

Even if she terrified him most of the time.

"What's the matter? Ukraine asked in low undertone as she fingered the stitches.

"Ah. I am just thinking that Prussia is in need of more ventilation holes to cool his hotheadedness."

"That's a nice thought."

Ukraine may not have caught the threat but Belarus did. He had to pull on her ribbon to keep her from wandering off to do his bidding.

"Sister. You do not seem upset. I had been thinking that you were... Fond of Matvey."

Ukraine blushed and buried her face in the scarf. She mumbled something unintelligible.

"I apologize. I did not hear that."

She peeked at him.

"I said that I am."

"Then should you be upset with Prussia, da?"

"Ah, Ivan," she sighed, "I want Matthew's happiness more than I want him to be mine."

"That does not make sense."

"It will when you're older."

"You are not so much older than I." He had to tug on his younger sister's ribbon again to keep her from disappearing.

"But it's enough of a difference." Russia let the confusion show on his face and she laughed. "You'll understand when you're older."

Russia had never understood where her reserves of inner strength and infallible kindness came from. He sometimes thought that she had taken all of the kindness in the world and left none of it for anyone else.

He was certainly not kind.

And Prussia was irritating him more now than he had in two decades.

"I do not think that you should have to share."

"What would I do if I had him all to myself? You are fond of him too and it would be unfair."

Belarus stopped tugging and tilted her head in an odd shuddering motion. She was nodding.

"Ah. That is true." He did not know what he wanted to do besides the fact that he wanted crush Prussia beneath his boot. He just knew that this situation would not do.

Ukraine righted Belarus' ribbon with practiced motion. Belarus looked as if she either wanted to bite the fingers or lean into the ministrations. He was unsure which, and perhaps she was just as unsure herself.

"Do not let it bother you so much. Matthew is not going to suddenly disappear just because of a little attention... Maybe." She had meant it to be comforting but even she sounded unconvinced as she said it.

"Yes, but should we take that chance?"

He twisted to watch Prussia and the brunette argue as she threatened him with a frying pan and he ducked out of her reach. It seemed that she had already hit him once.

And the thought made him smile.

* * *

"Guess what! Guess what!" Sealand flitted around Finland with excitement. Finland sighed and looked to Sweden for some assistance but the scene seemed to make him smile and he refused to step between them.

He was on his own.

"Yes, what is it?" Finland rested his hand on top of his head. It was not entirely an affectionate gesture as it served the dual purpose of holding the child still for a moment.

"I saw Prussia kissing Canada!" Sealand said it with a little too much enthusiasm and the nations sitting near them heard. Some of them turned to watch Finland and Sealand.

"You saw them...?" Finland trailed off.

"Kissing!"

The nations surrounding the conversation turned instead to glare at Prussia, although he remained oblivious. Or perhaps he was just getting used to the hostile stares.

"Alright." Finland needed more information. "Where did he kiss him?"

Sealand faltered.

"There's more than one place for kissing?" He whispered in awe and Finland wanted to smack himself for opening that can of worms. If Sealand had no idea that there were different grades of affection, it meant that no one had explained the facts of life to him.

And he would be damned if it was going his responsibility.

"Yes. Where did he kiss him?"

"Right here!" Sealand pointed to his cheek.

"Th't 's alr'ght." Of course Sweden would choose this exact moment to come to his rescue and not when he had needed it. He was leaning against the back of his chair. "It 's alr'ght to k'ss there."

Sweden bent over to land a chaste kiss on his cheek and Finland felt the blooming of a blush. He would never be used to public affection but it had thus far failed to discourage Sweden. He should be furious with him.

But he did not have the heart.

"Ooooh!" Sealand was bouncing up and down again in excitement. "So where else can you kiss?"

Finland covered his face with his hands and choked on a sob. Sweden massaged his shoulders and if he did not know better, he could have sworn that he was enjoying this.

* * *

England tried to explain to America that painting himself red, white, and blue would not actually make him invincible but he was having none of it. He continued to fold his fingers into the shape of a pistol and pretend that the Wild West had never disappeared.

"Those are the colours of victory!" He shot at England with his index finger.

"No, those are the colours of the American flag... And the Union Jack... And the French flag... And the French have never won much of anything."

"I am standing right here, dearest." France crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

"I am well aware."

"But red, white, and blue were our colours first and that makes them awesome!"

"No... Just no."

"Honestly, Arthur, who taught this child his history lessons?"

* * *

Belgium was searching for her brother and found him sprawled across the floor in front of the washroom. The sign was painted with a little male figure and she resisted the urge to vandalize it.

"Lars?"

"Ah."

"Lars? Are you alright?"

"Not at all."

"... Informative." She collapsed to the tiles beside him and prodded him.

"I think I'm in love with him."

Belgium did not need to ask who he was referring to. There had only been one such nation in recent times.

"You're an idiot. You send him flowers like clockwork. Of course you're in love with him."

"Oh."

He seemed surprised by the revelation and she wanted to smack him upside the head. Her brother was so useless. Instead she prodded him a little bit harder.

"We're about to be late."

"For what?"

"For the meeting."

"Is that why we're here?"

"... You really are an idiot."

* * *

China watched as South Korea continued to stare at Prussia from much to close and wondered if he would ever find a tablet powerful enough to deal with the headaches South Korea created.

Hong Kong was lighting firecrackers where he thought China could not see him. He thought about stopping him but it seemed like too much effort, and besides, he was lighting them next to Russia and China wanted to see what would happen.

He was a bit sadistic that way.

* * *

The minute hand on the timepiece had settled at the '12' and the nations were returning to the meeting in twos and threes of shuffling chaos.

Germany stood outside the entrance and watched their progress.

He did not want to go in there.

He had thought to control their response to Prussia and Canada by restricting the information. He had wanted to keep them from jumping to conclusions or getting ahead of themselves.

It had not worked. At all.

The information had been compromised, though how he did not know, and the nations each seemed to be planning their own retribution. The meeting this morning had been meant to establish a common purpose and a sense of camaraderie. It had been meant to unite them.

It had not worked. At all.

Germany watched as Hong Kong lit firecrackers underneath Russia and darted beneath the table in a flutter of silk and poor intentions. The firecrackers went off in flashes of light and smoke and Ukraine and Lithuania shrieked at the sudden assault.

Russia did not even twitch and that disturbed Germany more than he wanted to admit.

Sealand was jumping up and down and crawling all over Finland when he should have been leaving the conference room as he was not a nation. Hungary and his brother were shouting at each other and waving their arms but neither of them seemed serious. Spain was wandering around calling for Southern Italy and Denmark was sharpening his axe.

Germany blinked. Denmark was sharpening his axe. That did not bode well.

France, England, and America shuffled past him after The Netherlands and Belgium. The last two through the entrance were arguing but that was a regular occurrence.

Germany just stared and watched the chaos unfold with a sick sort of fascination. He had already lost this battle. He should retreat and cut his losses.

Japan appeared beside him and waited, while Northern Italy ran past them and leapt into the scrimmage without a second thought. Japan glanced up at him with a small smile.

"This is a losing battle," Germany was straightforward and to the point. The small smile spread a little further.

"We have fought such battles before."

He was right.

Germany stormed into the conference room with as much bluster and command as he could manage. He slammed his hands on the table and began shouting over the roaring din.

"That's enough! Return to your seats in a quick and efficient fashion! Quit gossiping and take your seats! Now!"

Japan took his seat with that small smile still in place.

* * *

The nations settled into their seats and rummaged through their notes as his brother wrangled control and started the meeting not two minutes late. It might be a new record.

Prussia searched the conference room for a flash of lavender and blonde but he could not find him. Canada was missing. Canada was missing after he had promised to return from the washroom.

And it could only mean that Prussia had ruined his chances with one foolish slip of tongue.

Fuck.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_In case you've missed the note at the beginning of this chapter: I've reworked and rewritten the previous chapters of this piece to update the writing style and add direction. It is not necessary to go back, as most of the core concepts are the same, but it has been a long time and a refresher course might be in order._

_No memories in this chapter. Yes, it does happen. See chapters one, two, four, and now nine for confirmation._

_____See note in previous chapter for reference to the Tulip Festival._

_____'Ventilation hole(s)' is slang for bullet holes or punctures and can be used as a threat.  
_

_I am afraid to tell you that I am starting from scratch responding to reviews. It's the only option at this point if I want to continue responding, and I do, so I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Throw me the idol and I'll throw you the whip!" If I was unable to respond to a review that you've been kind enough to send me then I want you to please, please, understand how important it was to me. I can guarantee that it brought a little sunshine into my life, and honestly, I need all of the sunshine I can get. So, we'll start from scratch and do this right._

_Yes, this is the longest morning in the history of fanfiction, I know, but I have an excuse: there are at least thirty (bleep)ing characters in this story! Roll that around in your head. Thirty! That's a lot of points of view and chaos, but that is how the online comics and the anime were written in the first place, so come along for the ride. We'll see what happens._

_Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece._


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